


i'll give the world to you

by Aelig



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Baby Athanasia al Ghul, Baby Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon is Batgirl, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Blanket Forts, Bruce Wayne & Julia Pennyworth are siblings, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Stephanie Brown's Dad, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Child Abandonment, Dick Grayson is Adorable, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is Robin, Father-Son Relationship, Forehead Kisses, Gen, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd is a dramaqueen, Jason Todd is adorable, Julia Pennyworth is Best Aunt, Nightmares, Sign Language, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, The character death is for Jason, Tim Drake is Robin, and it shows, he's doing his best, more tag to come, or toddler, siblings relationship, the Drakes A+ parenting, the character death is now also for Wally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelig/pseuds/Aelig
Summary: "Dick came from the circus. His parents were dead – their wings clipped in the middle of a show. He had been thrown away by Gotham Social Service, and it had driven Bruce mad.Bruce was a foster parent, now.He was a foster parent, and he had no idea what he was going."OR: Bruce gain a family, and can't stop himself from adopting more and more children.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Julia Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Athanasia al Ghul & Bruce Wayne, Athanasia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Batfamily - Relationship, Batkids - Relationship, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne & His Children, Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Damian Wayne, Cullen Row & Bruce Wayne, Cullen Row & Harper Row, Cullen Row & Tim Drake & Stephanie Brown & Harper Row & Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Harper Row, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Harper Row & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Leslie Thompkins & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, background Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon, background Julia Pennywort/Vicki Vale
Comments: 74
Kudos: 464
Collections: Moonlight and Cats, just the dads





	1. 1- Dick.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! I hope you're all okay!!
> 
> It's my first time posting in this fandom and my first time posting in English osidcjfo (yeah english isn't my first language, like my ao3 can already tell lmao). Big big thanks to my [beta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_book_has_been_loved) Brigit for her help!! Very appreciated, you're an angel. Also thanks to the batfam groupchat for their support!
> 
> Anyway, everything here is supposed to be canon compliant, i'm just filling in the blank. I really hope you're all gonna like it!! :D
> 
> Thanks everyone, a lot of love for you all!!

When he was a little boy, Bruce's biggest dream was to be a father.

This dream ended with fire and blood and screams, and disappeared in the cape of darkness that took over his life.

Bruce was Batman. Batman couldn't have the time for children or family.

Not even Alfred – always there for him, always having his back, talking him out of the worst and stupidest ideas he could have. The man who raised him and watched him grow, who took time and years to stay with him, for him, despite Bruce leaving and being a brat in general.

Not even Julia, Alfred's daughter – this girl who was only a distant correspondent and face for years before her mother died and she came to live at the Manor. The girl who teased him, that he protected at school, who called him every week just to banter with him.

Not even Leslie – always ready to help him, and to scold him for every injury. The woman who came so often to see him and tell stories about his father, who would make him work in her clinic where he learned first aid and more, who he could always turn to when he needed it.

He couldn't let himself have a family. Not anymore. Not if it meant he would lose them again.

Losing his parents had been the worst thing to happen to him. He couldn't... He couldn't lose anyone else.

Not Alfred, not Julia, not Leslie.

Bruce was sure, so sure of himself, that his heart was now closed, unable to love, unable to be loved. He was telling himself that he was alright with that. Every day.

The truth was, Bruce couldn't help but love people. He loved Gotham, he loved her people, he loved his new found family that had begun to gravitate around him years ago; and he loved the eight-year-old little kid that had lived with them for two weeks now.

Dick came from the circus. His parents were dead – their wings clipped in the middle of a show. He had been thrown away by Gotham Social Service, and it had driven Bruce mad.

He was a foster parent, now.

He was a foster parent, and he had no idea what he was going.

He had read all the parenting books he could in the little time he had, but it wasn't enough. Especially considering the fact that he was also trying to find the murderer of Dick's parents as Batman, and it was taking nearly all of his free time. He tried to spend time with the boy, though; he brought him to the office more than once, considering he was homeschooled for now, and he tried to establish a weekly movie night.

It was the best he could do for now, but it didn't help the kid that much. Bruce knew that Dick was still sad, traumatized, and obviously feeling alone.

When Julia came by to stay at the Manor instead of traveling, he thought it could help Dick to ease his mind. The both of them were easily found talking about the various countries they have seen, even trying to talk in other languages. Bruce was glad they liked each other, at least.

Alfred had been more annoyed by Bruce's decision, and he'd let it show – especially in those first days when Bruce had left the boy to his own devices, claiming to be too busy. But the butler was quite fond of Dick, and it was mutual.

Leslie had met Dick only for a complete health check-up; she had looked at Bruce and asked him, _Are you sure about this?_ Bruce had never been able to lie to Leslie's face, and he had said, _I don't know, but I want to help him_ , with all the sincerity of his heart.

Now, curled up on the couch for movie night, Dick by his side, Bruce thought he was in for something more permanent that he had intended.

Somehow, it didn't bother him that much.

By the time the end credits rolled, Dick was fast asleep. Bruce smiled lightly, taking the boy in his arms and carrying him to his bed. Dick's room was right beside Bruce's, for practicality.

He tucked the child into bed, and watched him sleep an instant – his chest rose and fell quietly, soundly, so living – before kissing his forehead. Bruce felt his heart be filled by something warm and precious and new, something he wanted to treasure and love forever.

He could have stayed here the whole night, looking at the child – his child – sleeping peacefully.

He came out of the room, and Julia was here, eyebrows raised in the same expression her father often had. And Bruce – Bruce was still smiling, a little, feeling more open, more ready maybe.

He kissed her temple, like he used to do when they were kids, when they were teenagers. “Good night, little sister.”

He was closing his door when he heard her reply. “'Night big bro.”

Maybe Batman wasn't ready to have a family yet.

But Bruce Wayne definitely was.

(And slowly, step by step, smile by smile, mistake by mistake, and new try by new try, Bruce started to build his family.)

.

.

.

Bruce didn't want a child to follow him in his crusade.

Especially not _his_ child.

Dick wasn't one to listen to his complaint, though; and Bruce hadn't known any better than to promise him that, yes, after one year of training he could join him on patrol.

That one year had passed, and Dick didn't forget, nor did he grow tired of all the intensive training, or even just the idea of superheoing. Vigilantism. Whatever.

The thing was, Bruce was forced to fulfill his promise. Every parenting book he read said he should alway respect a promise made to his children. He didn't want to break Dick's trust, especially not when the boy watched him with his baby blue eyes so avidly.

Damn it.

“Alfred helped me to make the costume!” piped Dick happily, in his very bright, very colorful, very traffic light uniform.

Alfred authorized _that_?

Judging by the look Alfred gave him, he deemed it was his job as Dick's parent to take care of the whole mess. Great. _Thank you_ Alfred. Leslie would be more useful right now.

… Which was actually true, considering her feelings about vigilantism. He should have told her Dick wanted to follow in his steps; she surely would have managed to change the boy's mind.

… Or not. Dick was pretty stubborn.

In any case, he should call Leslie to catch up. It's been a while since the last time he saw her.

“So, when are we going?”

Dick was very eager to start, apparently. And Bruce had forgotten the date, so _nothing_ was ready. Dick wasn't about to hear him on that, though, and Bruce resisted the urge to sight. He crouched in front of the boy, his cape spread around them, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Alright. But I'm gonna need you to follow some rules, chum. You think you can do that?”

Dick nodded rapidly. “No problem, B!”

He couldn't help but smile. “You are to stay with me the entire time we will be out. No engaging for tonight; you are just observing. And, you will have one hour of patrol, no more.”

As he expected, Dick whined. “But B....”

“I know, I know. You have a lot of training, and you are good, but you haven't been in the field yet. You need to observe before engaging for real, so you would know how to properly react. Alright?”

Dick made a show of his following sight. “Fine B.”

“Good. And you are still young, so the one hour limit for patrol is going to be for the next six months. It's a lot of change all at once, so you need to get used to that, body and mind.”

Dick crossed his arms on his chest and pouted. He was absolutely adorable. Especially with the little domino mask he had put on over his eyes somewhere in their conversation.

“Fiiiiine. But I'm not happy about it!”

“Trust my experience, chum.”

“Sure, sure, your experience as an old man.” Dick smirked a little, proud of himself.

“And for now, I prefer you to stick by my side. Once you have more experience in the field, you could have solo patrol. But that won't be for some years, alright?”

“ _Years_?”

“Yes. Years. You're nine, Dick. I'm not letting you out of my sight in this city before I deem you ready to handle it.”

“... Okay, that's fair I guess.” the boy reluctantly accepted, and Bruce smiled.

“Perfect. Then, I think we are ready.”

Dick's good mood came back in an instant at that, and he beamed first at Bruce, and then at Alfred who was still near the computer, listening to their conversation while pretending not to.

“Yes! Hear that Alfred? I'm gonna be a superhero like Bruce! And Superman! It's awesome!”

Alfred offered a smile at Dick. “Wonderful, Master Dick.” He then goes back to judge Bruce with his _look_. _The_ look.

Bruce grimaced a little, before putting his cowl on. Dick visibly took that as his cue to run to the car – Batmobile – quickly hopping from one feet to another from excitement. His son honest to god _giggled_ while climbing into his seat.

“Robin's gonna fly again tonight,” he whispered, and Bruce's heart seized a little. He removed one hand from the wheel and ruffled Dick's hair, his eyes on the road.

Like Dick said: Robin was ready to fly in Gotham's sky.

(And he proved it, again and again and again; and if each time Dick got injured, Bruce felt a pang of regret for putting him through this, the smile he had on patrol nights was too beautiful and happy for Bruce to deprive his son from that.)

.

.

.

Julia sipped her coffee with a loud _sluuuurp_ , her gaze not leaving Bruce one second. Bruce was busy pretending not to be bothered by it, and Dick watched them in some sort of wonder, because, _wow_.

Finally, Bruce snapped, pinching his nose and closing his eyes in the process.

“ _Julia._ ”

“ _Bruce._ ”

She didn't stop staring at him. His glare met her unbothered look, and the battle of will took a whole new level.

It was inspiring and terrifying at the same time. (As the Pennyworths often were, honestly.)

Alfred shook his head in obvious defeat, and Dick had to stop himself from bursting out laughing. But really, it was _something_.

Alfred had enough of this nonsense, though.

“Julia, my dear, did Bruce tell you about the new development in Richard's life?”

They both stopped at the implied scold, and Julia turned her now curious gaze toward her father and nephew.

“No? What happened?”

“He got a new team. Of young superheroes, like him,” said Bruce, taking his own cup of coffee in his hands. “They're monitored by the Justice League.”

Julia raised an interested eyebrow. “And what prompted this new team?”

“I infiltrated a lab with Wally and Aqualad, found a sixteen-year-old-clone of Superman, nearly got cloned myself, fought a crazy scientist, and got the lab dropped on me. It was fun.” supplied Dick helpfully.

Julia snorted. “Geez, I wonder who you got this sense for dramatics from,” she commented with a not-so-subtle glance at Bruce.

Dick was _sure_ he saw Bruce giving her the finger.

“That wasn't _that_ dramatic,” he said.

Bruce was now watching him with a very blank face. “There was nothing left of the lab.”

Dick shrugged. “Except all the underground floors.”

Bruce sighed, and Julia laughed.

“So, you got new friends?” she asked, redirecting the discussion, her focus on Dick. And- It was nice, because they didn't see her that often these last months – she was on a big reportage with Vicky Vale somewhere in deep South Asia, and they had only just come back to Gotham. That obviously changed her, to be a journalist, but it also suited her. Dick mourned the fact that his favorite aunt wasn't around anymore, what with her moving in her own apartment, getting a job, and running around the world. (At least they didn't have Vicky Vale prying into their lives anymore. An evil for a good, somehow.)

“Yeah! Superboy, the famous clone, and Miss Martian. She's Martian Manhunter's niece. She's sweet. And Wally has the biggest crush on her; it's embarrassing, really. He keeps making a fool of himself. But it's entertaining, at least.”

Julia laughed, again, and Alfred was quietly smiling, and Bruce was pretending to read on his tablet but Dick could see the amusement on his face, and everything was nice and good for a Sunday morning with his family.

“Dick, honey,” breathed Julia, and her eyes were shining at least as much as Dick's own. “You need to tell me more.”

With a smirk, he launched himself in the retelling of his new Team's adventures, the sunlight brightening quietly their smiles and their laughs.

(They should do that more often, maybe – being there together as a family; maybe.)

.

.

.

Bruce had never felt so stressed in his entire life. Thirty-two years of existence, only to be taken down by asking his ward a simple question. His heart was beating fast – so fast that he felt it in his bones and head and whole body, in rhythm with his inconsistent breathing.

He closed his eyes, and tried to calm down at least a little – it wasn't the moment to go in full panic mode.

The door opened right before his eyes, and Bruce took a step back in surprise. Dick appeared, himself slightly surprised, still in his pajamas and with his hair pointing in all directions. He rubbed one of his eyes, before looking at Bruce. “Bruce? What are you doing here?”

He opened his mouth before swallowing. “Hey chum. Can we talk a little?”

Dick hesitated a split second before opening his door more and stepping aside to let him in. “Sure.”

He immediately let himself fall into his bed, and Bruce couldn't help but smile.

“So, what's up? This has to be important if we're gonna be late for Alfred's breakfast.”

Bruce swallowed again, and sat down in the chair by the desk. He looked at Dick, trying to keep his breathing steady, calm – he was sure he was failing, though. “Yes. It's... Important.”

“Okay, then. What is it?” Dick asked again, and Bruce didn't know how to respond.

They _had_ talked about this specific subject, when Dick came to live with him; but it had been years ago, when he was still little and his loss fresh in his heart. Bruce had changed his mind two months into his ward's stay at the Manor, give or take, but he wasn't so sure about Dick's feeling.

But it had been six years now. Dick was growing up, had a team on his own, and the New Year had been- something. With the Light making their moves...

Bruce had hurt Dick, too. Even if that wasn't what he'd wanted to do, even if he wasn't in his right mind; it had been frightening, to wake up from that, without memories but his ward – son – in pain after fighting him. Bruce didn't want to relive that again; but more than that, the idea of losing Dick or Dick losing him without having been clear about his feelings – he wanted to change that.

In reality, he had planned for this day years ago; but the stress and the fear curling up in his stomach didn't care about that. He already had the papers, because he couldn't help himself; he'd thought about doing this months ago, for real, but the New Year just precipitated things a little.

This was for the best, anyway. Mostly. He hoped.

“So?” prompted Dick, and Bruce realized he had been quiet for some time now.

“Hn. Yes. I... wanted to ask you a question.” He stopped here, and Dick raised his eyebrows at him. “An... important one. It's... about you, and, hn, me?”

He had a whole speech planned, planned for days and weeks and _months_ ; yet he couldn't remember any of it. He was pretty sure he was sweating from everywhere, too. He had never been this nervous in his life before.

“O-kay...,” said Dick slowly, and he straightened himself so he was now sitting up in his bed, still looking at him. His eyes were so blue – like the first time he met him, like he never really grew out of this innocent look. He was a teenager, now. He was also starting to get nervous himself, Bruce could tell.

He should just go with it and rip the bandage off, right?

“I care about you. A lot. You know that. I...” _Breathe, Bruce._ “I wanted to talk to you about adoption.” he nearly blurted out that sentence, but at least it was said now. “I love you, Dick. Like a son. And I know I'm not... I could never be like your parents were, and we stated long ago that I would never try to replace them, but....”

He wasn't sure where he was going anymore, and Dick's face was so blank now, so _closed_ , he nearly wanted to cry and take everything back and bury it and never think about it ever again. Dick opened his mouth, and Bruce prepared himself for some sort of rejection; because Dick had told him he didn't wanted Bruce as his dad, long ago, and time had passed but maybe he was still thinking the same-

“You want to adopt me?”Dick's voice was so quiet, nearly drowned by the silence and the loudness of Bruce's internal thoughts.

He looked at his son, and noted how his eyes were a little more wet than before, and the shadow of a smile was looming over his lips, and he _breathed_ -

“Yes. I always have, chum.”

Dick rubbed his eyes again, but this time it wasn't from fatigue or surprise. Bruce couldn't feel any regret in himself from it, though.

“... I didn't know.” said Dick again, oh-so-quietly.

Bruce got up from the chair, closing the distance between him and his son. He sat on the bed and Dick nearly threw himself at him, and Bruce embraced him like it would be the last time.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, almost jokingly, and Dick _laughed_. They stayed like that a long time, never breaking the silence; just enjoying each other's presence and warmth and _love_.

“... Do you want me to take your name?” his son said after a long moment, and Bruce blinked, because-

He hadn't thought about that, actually. But the idea – the idea made him feel warm. And in all honesty he would love to have his name attached to his son.

But he also knew the deep attachment Dick had to his own parents, and he would never want him to lose that.

“It's whatever you'd like, chum.”

Dick huffed, and detached himself from the embrace. “I'm asking what _you_ want, not what _I_ want. I know what I want.”

Bruce couldn't help but smile a little, even if he missed losing the warmth of his son against him; he should take upon himself to hug the kid more.

“I... would love for you to take my name, Dick. But I don't want you to lose your parents' name either.”

Dick smiled, bright and loud and malicious, too. “I can hyphenate, you know.”

… He forgotten about that, actually.

“Of course I know, chum.”

Dick snorted, seeing right through him; he didn't say anything, though, his little angel. “So, can I sign the papers now?”

There was a lump in Bruce's throat, and he wanted to cry and never let go of this kid who had changed his whole life for the better.

“Sure,” he said, and he thought he could explode from love and happiness right then and there, something he thought was lost forever. He kissed his son's forehead, and stood up. “Come on, chum.” He helped Dick to his feet.

Dick laughed again and wiggled away, but Bruce had a firm grip on him; he didn't let him go. He was still small enough and light enough for him to carry, after all, and teenagers grew up too fast. He had to take every chance he got.

“Bruce, let me go!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“... Dad?”

Bruce nearly tripped on his own feet, and Dick's laughter bubbled again.

_I could get used to that word really fast_ , he thought, and his heart did burst out from his chest.

(And he did, somehow, get used to that. More and more and more, as the days and weeks passed around them.)


	2. 2- Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I hope everyone is okay :D
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, it makes me really happy!! ❤️
> 
> Here the second chapter!! Baby Jason is here :D And once again, thank to my [beta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_book_has_been_loved) Brigit for her help!
> 
> I hope you'll like it :D❤️

It started when Batman came back to the Batmobile to discover it was missing three tires.

And, well, if Robin had been around that night, Bruce would have thought it was a prank from his son.

Except Robin was with the Team at Mount Justice for a sleepover and wasn't supposed to come home until morning.

(Morning because he wasn't willing to let his son away with teenagers for _that_ long. Not that he didn't trust them. It was just... _teenagers_.)

Bruce hadn't expected to find a kid way too young and malnourished to be out on the street trying to remove the fourth tire.

He hadn't expected either to end up taking the kid home. Not home to the Batcave, but home to the Manor – the kid needed a place to stay, after all, and he sure had more than enough place.

And... well. The kid – Jason. He was smart, and witty, and so fierce, and passionate. Bruce hadn't known him for five minutes before he knew he already liked him. Loved him. He wanted to hug him and never let him go.

… That was kind of why he brought him home. That, plus the fact that Jason fell asleep in the Batmobile and he didn't have the heart to wake him up. The kid came back to himself a little bit when they arrived at the Cave, and Bruce explained to him quickly that he was bringing him to bed upstairs to a guest room. He wasn't entirely sure that Jason had clearly heard him though, and the newt morning found him waiting anxiously for the boy to come down for breakfast.

However, the first one to pass the door was Dick.

“Hey Dad!” he greeted cheerfully. He'd surely had a good night; Dick was calling him Dad more often now, especially when he was particularly happy.

“Good morning, Dick,” he said, sipping his coffee quietly. He waited for Dick to be seated in front of him before continuing. “So, tell me. What would you think about a little brother for your fifteenth birthday?”

His son stared blankly at him for a whole second. “Bruce, did you kidnap a child last night?”

“I didn't kidnap him, he came willingly.”

Dick snorted, nearly spitting out his hot chocolate by his nose. “A little brother sounds fine.” his son finally said. “But my birthday isn't for six months, you know.”

Of course Bruce knew. _Duh_.

“An early gift, then.”

Dick snorted again but didn't comment further; they both started to eat again in silence, and Bruce relaxed a little more. At least his son took it well; he just needed to make sure Jason was alright with that, and to inform Alfred.

… He'd forgotten to tell Alfred.

Which he apparently wouldn't have the time to correct, because Alfred was entering the kitchen that moment.

With Jason.

And even with Alfred's calm and composed facade, Bruce _knew_.

“Good morning.” Bruce said, and hoped very hard he wasn't about to be scolded by his father figure.

Considering the judgement in the look Alfred gave him, he had no chance on this side. Dick didn't even try to defend him or something, instead beaming at Jason.

“Hey! I'm Dick!” he held out his hand, and Jason took it carefully, his focus switching between everyone in the room. Bruce smiled a little to him, and the kid scowled at him.

… Alright then.

“I'm Jason,” said the kid, and Dick designated the chair beside him.

“Come on, sit. You're hungry?”

Jason obeyed, still seizing them up, a little tense.

“Master Jason here told me the most wildest of story, Master Bruce.” started Alfred, bringing a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon for Jason. “Would you believe that Batman brought him here without telling anyone?”

Dick snorted. Bruce grimaced under Alfred's gaze. Jason was looking at them, still quiet, and maybe a little confused.

“Thank you Mister Pennyworth,” he still said when Alfred gave him his breakfast.

“You are welcome, Master Jason.”

The kid was obviously uncomfortable with the title, but didn't say anything, starting to eat instead.

“Sorry Alfred.” Bruce did his best to look remorseful. “You were sleeping...”

“Like the young lad here, I suppose?” Alfred was staring down at him, and definitely not happy.

Dick was watching them like they were the best sitcom in the world.

“Sorry,” he said again.

“I am not the one you are supposed to apologize to, Master Bruce.”

Bruce grimaced again before turning toward Jason. “I'm sorry for bringing you here without saying anything.”

Jason looked at him without saying anything, chewing at his bottom lip, and Bruce tried to resist the urge to hug him because – it was just so cute.

“So you're Batman? Why'd you bring me here?”

… Alfred was already judging him anyway.

“I offered to buy you a burger last night, remember? But you fell asleep in the car. I didn't want to wake you up.”

Even Jason deadpanned. “You didn't want to wake me up so you brought me to your home? That's stupid.”

“I wouldn't have used the same words but I agree with the sentiment.” notified Alfred.

“What are you gonna do to me now? I know your secret.” Jason seemed resigned about his fate, which didn't bode well with Bruce.

“I actually wanted to propose the idea that you stay here. Unless you'd prefer to go into a foster home or something like that instead. But you will not be going back on the street, that's for sure.”

Jason blinked. “Stay here? For what?”

“So you're safe?” Bruce was confused, now.

“... Nothing else?” he asked quietly.

Bruce looked at him with an expression of vague horror. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Jason. Nothing will happen to you here.”

“... Oh.” he didn't seem to fully believe him, but that was alright; they had time.

Dick jumped into the discussion, changing the subject and effectively distracting Jason. Halfway through the conversation, Jason realized that Dick and Robin were one and the same, and he started to blush (and it was _adorable_ ).

(Jason stayed close to Dick for the following week. Alfred gave Bruce the cold shoulder, but he couldn't help but think it was worth it when he saw Jason laughing and talking about his favorite books and growing more comfortable as the days passed.

 _He was worth it_ , he thought when Jason told him he wanted to stay at the Manor.)

.

.

.

Bruce was pacing in front of the library, muttering to himself. He was in the middle of rehearsing his speech when the door opened and Jason came into light. His arms were crossed on his chest. “Are you gonna stop? You're distracting me. I can't read in peace.”

“Sorry lad.” Bruce offered him a little smile. “Can I come in, please? I want to speak with you.”

Jason narrowed his eyes but said nothing, simply going back to where he was sitting before the interruption.

Bruce took it as the invitation it was and followed him, sitting down on the couch next to him. “So, Jay, your birthday passed recently, and August is already almost over... I, hn. I think we should talk about your future.”

“What about it?”

Bruce knew he had made a mistake because Jason was now on the defensive.

“I want to enroll you at school.” he blurted out, even if it hadn't been what he'd wanted to talk about right now.

“... Isn't it too late for that?” asked Jason, but Bruce could see how interested it was.

“Not when you're Bruce Wayne's son.”

There was a beat of silence. Bruce realized what he just said.

“I mean-”

“Your son?” Jason tilted his head. He was so cute.

“... Yeah. Hn. I... wanted to talk to you about adopting you, actually.”

“Not school?” Jason was nearly disappointed.

“... And school,” confirmed Bruce, amused by his kid's reaction.

“So, you're gonna register me in a school? Really?” Jason was now beaming. Bruce wondered if Jason had even heard the bit about the adoption.

“Uh-uh. But we need to be clear about the other part, Jaylad.”

“Oh, yeah, the adoption thing. No problem. Where do I sign? I want to be in a school as soon as possible. I miss school!”

… Alright, Bruce could work with that. He laughed and hugged Jason, taking him against him. He kissed the crown of his head. Jason climbed on his lap and returned the hug.

“I have the papers right here, Jaylad. And I'm glad the prospect of going to school makes you that happy.”

He held his son against him, and listened to him babble about school and books and all he wanted to learn, and Bruce thought that he couldn't live without that.

(Jason got enrolled in school not that soon later, and managed to place in a grade above his age.

Bruce felt so _proud_.)

.

.

.

The Cave was dark and grim and scary, and Dick was absolutely dying of laughter. Apparently, Jason too.

Somehow, Bruce's entire uniform was covered in _sparkles_. Very pretty, very bright _sparkles_. Dick loved it. Considering the surprised yelp Jason had when he saw it, he wasn't the culprit; it wasn't Dick either, but the teen clearly regretted not having the idea himself.

That left only one person whol could have done that.

Dick knew it had been a good idea to have Julia stay at the Manor for the weekend. She always had the best prank ideas. His father didn't seem to agree with the thought, though, but it wasn't like Dick cared. He knew Bruce loved his sister anyway. Also, he was too busy laughing.

Bruce sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, like a true dramaqueen. “I'm going on patrol. Rejoin me whenever you want. Preferably when you two have stopped making fun of me.”

With a dramatic flourish of his cape, Bruce disappeared into the direction of the Batmobile. That would have been more effective if he didn't look like a disco ball right now, but the intention was there at least.

Jason covered his giggles with his hand. Dick smiled and ruffled the kid's hairs. Jason leaned on him. “Aunt Julia is the _best_ ,” he said when the roar of the Batmobile wasn't discernible anymore.

“Agreed, Little Wing.”

Jason snorted one last time. “Please tell me the camera caught that.”

“Oh yeah. I'm saving it right now.” He sat at the computer and immediately went to work, sending the pictures to Barbara and the Justice League at the same time. And the Team. They deserved to see this.

When he finished, he turned toward Jason, who was now settled on the table, reading.

“Hey Jase?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute please? It's important.”

Jason looked at him and closed his book. “Yeah?”

Dick smiled at him. “Yeah.” He stood up, and made a gesture with his hand for his little brother to follow him.

During the last several months, Jason had trained hard with the goal to rejoin the vigilante side of the family as well. Bruce had sighed when his youngest told him about his plans, but he didn't try to stop him. Dick found that cute, how Bruce still didn't know how to say no to them.

They had talked about that, the both of them. About Jason's training and what his codename would be, after, on the streets.

Dick'd had his idea for a while. Bruce had been a little reluctant, but told him it was his choice in the end.

And Dick – Dick had thought about it. A lot. He loved being Robin, and flying beside Bruce, and how he grew up and built the Team with his friends; but that was just the thing. He had _grown up_.

Somehow... somehow, even if it was his colors, his family name... Robin didn't felt _right_ anymore. Didn't suit him anymore. The thought made him sad, at first, but…he had put a lot of thought into this.

He didn't want Robin to disappear. He knew that it was now a symbol in Gotham, and it felt... weird, to let it go, to bury it in the past. Sad, almost – like a betrayal to his adopted city.

But Jason was good, and he had the spirit and passion for it. And more important than that – he was _family_.

Jason was his little brother, for the best and the worst, and nothing could ever break that.

“So, I was thinking....”

“Wow, you can do that? Warn a guy before dropping things like that, Big Bird.”

Dick snorted and ruffled his brother's hair again. Jason's smirk widened, looking now more like a smile. “Shush Little Wing. It's _serious_.” Jason raised his eyebrow, and Dick continued. “So I was thinking, because _yeah I know how to think_ , that I won't be Robin anymore.”

Jason's eyes were the ones to widen, this time. “ _What_?”

“Shush, I'm not finished.” He licked his lips, trying to think how to formulate the next part. “I grew up. Robin isn't really me anymore. I already have a whole new costume, actually. I wanted to try it out tonight.”

“... Oh.” said Jason after a moment. “Wow. Okay.”

“Bruce also cleared you. You can come on patrol with us tonight.” At that, Jason's face lit up like the sun in the morning. “And I have a gift for you,” Dick finished.

He took the box he prepared and gave it to Jason. And, here's the thing; Jason was smart. Dick saw it in his eyes the moment he connected the dots and realized what was in the box, realized what exactly Dick was giving him.

When he opened it and saw the famous colors, Jason's eyes were nearly full of tears.

“You're sure about that?” he asked, voice shaking with emotions, and Dick – Dick felt his heart bursting with the love he had for his little brother, all he wanted to offer to him and live with him and tease him for.

He was family, and he loved him so much, and Dick knew he’d never regret this moment.

“More sure than anything else in my life.”

Jason carefully placed the box on the ground before throwing himself at Dick. He hugged him like his life depended on it, and Dick returned the embrace to him.

“What do you think about a Robin and Nightwing team-up for tonight, Little Wing?”

Jason laughed, bright and clear and happy. “I bet we can arrest more criminals than Batman.”

“Oh, you're on.”

They both grinned, and Dick thought that nothing could get better than that.

(When they were both in costume later that night, and Nightwing smiled at his partner and said, _Ready, Robin?_ and Robin answered with, _Yeah. Thanks, Big Bird_ , they both knew it meant more.

They ended up putting more criminals away than Batman did that night, and they pestered Bruce about that all the way back to the Cave.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ❤️
> 
> I think the third chapter will be posted next week! I hope at least. I'm also participing to Comfortember, if anyone is interested. It starts tomorrow!
> 
> Have a good day everyone! And Happy Halloween ❤️


	3. 3- Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello evreyone!! I hope you're okay!! :D
> 
> New chapters, and once again a lot of thanks to my beta [Brigit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_book_has_been_loved)!! You are wonderful :D
> 
> PLEASE mind the tags for this chapter!! Just in case, here the warnings: Child Abuse, Child Abandonment, Character Death.
> 
> ALSO i forgot to say it for like two chapters but the title of the fic come from the song "Dear Theodosia" from the musical Hamilton :D

Bruce saw Kate again for the first time in years in the beginning of December. She came around for dinner, and hit it off right away with Jason (which honestly should worry Bruce, but Kate was his only family member he could support. Better her than another cousin). She was about to go out to the Middle East on a mission, and thus couldn't come to the annual New Year party that Gotham's socialites organized every year.

Bruce was regretting her absence when New Year's Eve came around and he had absolutely no excuse not to attend. So, because he could afford to be petty sometimes and refused to suffer alone through yet another Gala, he told his sons they had no choice but to come. Dick had very effectively pouted, but it was too late to change his mind.

There were other kids here anyway, so at least they weren't alone.

Bruce smiled at some businessman – yet another he didn't very much like, considering his position on the list of corrupted rich men in Gotham.

He was bored out of his mind. At this point, he would gladly take any of his rogues crashing the party. He would even pay them to do so.

Instead, he started to make his way to the end of the ballroom, in an attempt to sneak out discreetly to the balcony. He wasn't looking in front of him, so the sudden obstacle he bumped into took him by surprise; he heard a little _hmpf_ as the something crashed onto the ground.

It was a child. Ten years old, maybe, stuck in a little suit, his big eyes glued on Bruce and his cheeks flushed.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” said Bruce immediately, crouching in front of the child. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I'm....” The kid seemed surprised – or starstruck, maybe. “I'm fine, Mister Wayne.”

“Bruce is fine, sweetheart. What's your name?”

He flushed even more at that – he clearly was very shy. “I'm Tim- Timothy Drake.”

Bruce frowned a little. He knew the Drakes; they were a couple that spent more _out_ of Gotham than inside it, and every time they showed up they were bragging about their trip. But Bruce had never heard anything about them having a son.

“Your parents are Jack and Janet Drake, right?”

Tim nodded quietly, his eyes suddenly wary at the mention of his parents. “Please, don't tell them I crashed into you!”

Bruce blinked. That wasn't... a _normal_ reaction, to say the least. “Why not?”

Tim chewed at his lip, only worry tracing the lines of his face now. “They would be mad.”

Bruce now had a bad feeling in his guts. His instincts were screaming at him; he looked at the kid again, and suddenly he wanted to hug him and never let him go.

“Why about this: I'll say nothing to your parents, and in exchange you come with me outside? I think you and I need some fresh air, buddy.”

Tim hesitated. But he looked back up at him, and after a moment's deliberation, his face brokeinto a wide beam. “Okay. It's a deal.”

Bruce smiled and offered his hand to Tim; the kid took it and got up. Bruce didn't let go of his hand.

They spent the rest of the gala outside, talking to each other. Bruce learned that Tim loved photography and was actually eleven, not ten – he was just a little bit small for his age, like Jason was as well. Once he was at ease with the situation, Tim was a very passionate boy, who liked to share his interests and could talk for _hours_. He was brilliant, and it was also painfully obvious that no one ever took the time to talk with him or even listen to him.

Bruce slipped a casual question about Tim's parents into the conversation; the look on the boy's face was enough for Bruce to understand where the problem came from.

He was going to kill the Drakes himself, at this rate.

Jason and Dick rejoined them ten minutes before midnight struck; they stayed together for the countdown, and yelled _Happy New Year_ together.

The four of them headed back into the ballroom together; the guest were slowly starting to leave.

But Jack and Janet Drake were nowhere to be found.

“I'll stay with you, sweetheart, alright?” Bruce told Tim, carrying the child against his hip. His eyelids were dropping; he was obviously worn out, ready to fall asleep right here. Bruce signaled for Dick and Jason to pursue the research.

When Dick came back, face somber and Jason's hand in his, Bruce knew the news weren't good. Fortunately, Tim had fallen asleep and thus wouldn't hear it.

“What's going on?”

“They left,” said Dick, letting Jason leaning a little against him, his youngest apparently uncomfortable. “Like, two hours ago. They didn't even ask for him. They _forgot_ him.”

Dick was angry. Bruce was angry, too; the mere idea that someone could have a child and just, _forget_ them like they were nothing – it made him want to go out as Batman to beat up those responsible.

… Or, simply bring them to justice for child neglect, he thought, his focus on Tim.

“What are we gonna do, Dad? We can't leave him alone.” Jason had pleading eyes, just like his brother, and Bruce wondered if they'd talked on their across the room. If they were trying to convince him to get them another sibling or something... well, he wouldn't put it past them. He'd seen how much they liked Tim when they'd all been out on the balcony togather.

Though, he could also just be projecting his own wants on his children, which wasn't really correct.

“We'll bring him home with us for tonight. Tomorrow, I'll call Lucius and we'll sort this out.”

The twin grins on his sons' faces were clear enough about their feelings on this.

Bruce still had his foster licence. He could foster Tim until the situation was dealt with. He could take care of him, and make sure he had what he needed, and that he was happy and growing well. He could see all three of the boys growing, interacting together, learning each other. He could be a good enough parental figure for another kid, surely.

He tightened his grip on Tim. He would make sure everything goes for the better.

(The Drakes had already left for yet another trip when Bruce's lawyers contacted them.

The case will be long, they told him, but they had good chances to win. And, in the meantime, Tim was staying at Wayne Manor and Bruce would be his foster father; the kid took the news with surprise and confusion, but soon enough he was fitting just right in the family.

Apparently, he also knew for years that he was Batman. So, there was that, too.

Smart, brilliant, wonderful kid.)

.

.

.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

_(That wasn't supposed to happen.)_

Bruce couldn't move, or breathe, and things were so _wrong_ , and _that wasn't supposed to happen_.

The plane was carrying him back to the Cave, and Bruce couldn't breathe anymore, and his mind and thoughts were invaded by static and _nothing was right anymore_.

Jason was here. Jason was here and burned and bloody and his eyes were closed and

_they won't open again_

_that shouldn't have happened_.

Bruce couldn't breathe and couldn't think and soon he'd be in Gotham and-

_Oh, God. Dick. Tim. Alfred._ _What would he say to them?_

He had no idea. Absolutely no idea.

Jason...

Jason was behind him. He was just behind him, and he was so still, and he couldn't look at him anymore.

It was his son and his son was

Jason was so still and unmoving and cold and burned and there was blood everywhere and

_Bruce couldn't breathe anymore._

_He couldn't breathe._

He didn't notice the plane stopping, or the dark of the Cave around them.

Nothing was making sense anyway.

The world was upside down, the ground was on the ceiling and the ceiling was on the ground and _nothing was making sense_.

Jason was a breathing, living, lively boy. He was smiles and laugher and passion and ferocity and love, all the way from his body and his speech and his look.

Jason loved classic literature and chemistry, being Robin and punching thugs in the face, teasing Tim and cuddling Dick, cooking with Alfred and reading in the study while Bruce was working.

He was so full of life, every day, every minute, every second of time he could have, he had – he couldn't be anything else than that.

_Full of life._

Nothing like stillness and cold and full of blood and broken bones and burns. Nothing like the boy strapped in the back of the plane.

_Bruce couldn't breathe._

But his sons were here, they were waiting, and Jason-

He stood up. Was out in the Cave in a blink of the eye. Dick and Tim right in front of his eyes.

Smiles fading and concern and worry drawing themselves across their faces. Eyes darting toward the plane and the lack of Jason.

Bruce blinked, and Dick was talking, and he couldn't breathe hear talk

~~_live_ ~~

His gestures were mechanical; a blink, and the actions were already done, another one and the world had already changed broken _been destroyed_.

His cowl was pushed back. Tim was so worried he was nearly shaking, like he had been at the beginning of his stay at the Manor. Dick seemed hesitant, kind of horrified, like he had already realised and

Bruce _breathed_.

“I... something happened.”

He didn't tell much. His sons – _alive_ , _breathing_ sons – were in his arms in no time, and they _cried_.

In the back of the plane, Jason's body was still cold and blood and broken bones.

(Never to be alive again.)

.

.

.

Giving Robin to Jason had been something amazing, incredible, full of joy and feelings of complete family.

Dick couldn't help but think that giving Robin to Tim was full of grief and missing pieces.

_(Jason should have been here – should have been the one to give the title and the mantle to their little brother, with Dick only being here as a witness of how much his family name had grown and grown, as much as his own family had; Jason should have been here and laughing with them and hugging Tim and not-_

_Dick shouldn't keep thinking about that.)_

He still tried, though. Tim had been training hard – he wasn't the natural that Dick or Jason had been – and his progress was astounding. He deserved this; he deserved Robin and his place in their vigilante life.

_(He deserved to be able to honor Jason's memory.)_

So. So Dick tried to smile, and laugh, and to be entirely sincere when he congratulated Tim-

_(They both know his heart wasn't full, wasn't totally in it, but Tim didn't say anything because his heart wasn't fully there either-)_

-and maybe he hugged him a little harder, a little closer than he should have, but Tim didn't shy away and hugged him back as fiercely.

Bruce stayed on the sideline, watching them carefully without missing any of their movements, even the tiniest, unimportant ones. The dark circles under his eyes were not as prominent that they had been, some months ago-

_(But he still didn't sleep well, none of them did; Dick and Tim were basically sharing a room and a bed, and they would often wake up with Bruce at their bedside, never really resting, never really letting them out of his sight-)_

-and he didn't smile, not really, but he had a softness in the curl of his lips, carefully invading his look, and so much pride he nearly couldn't breathe.

But it was a happy moment. A happy moment, as a family; with Dick giving Robin to Tim after all theses months of training, Bruce watching over them and ready to bring the new vigilante in town to his first patrol, Alfred upstairs preparing a celebratory meal, and Julia pretending to help him, but they all knew she was really trying to see how much food she could steal off the plates without her father noticing.

And it was good, to have the Manor full-

_(Almost full; it would never be full again-)_

-having more family meals and Julia around more often-

_(She hadn't left since Jason's-)_

-and the family left a little more united, maybe, and Bruce more present-

_(overprotective)_

-and Dick was really, really trying not to cry. He couldn't do that to Tim, couldn't tarnish his first night at his childhood hero, couldn't worry Bruce even more. And so he smiled, smiled so wide it hurt his cheeks and his heart and said, “I'm so proud of you, Timmy.” And meant every words of it, but missing his little brother, his first one, more than ever.

Dick let Batman and Robin roll out of the cave without him, saying something about joining them later on, and he let the silence envelop him, cajoling him, until it took his breath away and he couldn't pretend anymore.

He couldn't do that to Tim, but Tim wasn't there anymore, and Dick broke.

And so he cried, chanting the rising of a new bird and the falling of another.

(Nightwing made an appareance far later that night. If he was still shaking a little, neither Batman or Robin said anything.)

.

.

.

His reflection was looking right back at him, like he was judging him. Bruce tried not to sigh at himself.

He was just trying to prepare himself; these things tended to get out of hand each time and he wanted them to get better this time.

So, he was... repeating. In front of his mirror. Like a teenager wanting to declare his love for his long-time crush. Except it wasn't really that, but, well. Not that far either.

“Tim,” he started, then took another deep breath. “You've been a part of our family for some time now, and now that everything with your parents is definitely settled, I wanted to talk to you about making things more official. These past months have been... difficult.”

He stopped again and sighed. “No, not like that. Tim, I want to make your stay in the family more official. I know things have been hard recently, but...”

He closed his eyes and his mouth and cursed himself for being that incompetent with words. He wasn't sure how to perfectly convey his feelings without scaring away his son. The situation wasn't ideal with the new threats around them, and Jason...

Everything was still fresh in everyone's mind, but Bruce didn't want to talk about that when he was supposed to do something _happy_ , for once.

Maybe a more direct way would be better in that case?

He straightened, and with his serious face on, he started again.

“Tim, I love you and see you as a son. I want to officially adopt you. Would you agree?”

“Yes,” came the voice of his son from behind him.

Bruce hadn't startled. At all. He turned quickly, noticing the grin on Tim's lips and – he didn't know how to react.

“... Tim.”

“Hey B.” said Tim cheerfully.

“... You heard me.” He didn't even try to formulate it as a question – he already knew the answer anyway.

“Obviously.” It seemed that Tim wasn't in a mood to help him. At all.

“... You said yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

They stared at each other in silence. Again. And again. A full minute passed like that.

“... So, where are the papers? I have to sign them, right?”

Bruce breathed and shook his head, a smile coming to his lips. “In my office. Come on.” He put an arm around his youngest's shoulders, and Tim leaned a little against him.

“Sure Dad.”

That definitely didn't go as planned, but Bruce would take it without problem.

(When not even two days later, Bruce had to part for a trial in space, for a crime he didn't remember committing, he felt glad that Tim surprised him. He hated leaving his children alone, especially after what Tim's parents did to him; it wasn't fair that he had to do the same without meaning to.

At least he'd had the time to adopt Tim before going away from who-knows-how-long.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get better I promise. I was forced too, I'm following the canon events :/
> 
> Next chapter next saturday!! 
> 
> Take care, a lot of love for you!!


	4. 4- Stephanie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllo everyone! I hope you are all okay!! :heart:
> 
> Here is a new chapter for you :fingerguns: I absolutely loved writing Tim and Steph POV lmao. It was very fun. 
> 
> Once again, big thanks to my beta [Brigit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_book_has_been_loved) for her help!! :heart:

As Tim could now testify, a brick in the face _hurt_.

Who could have guessed, huh?

He had been patrolling Gotham's streets while between missions with the Team; and even if the fact that he hadn't been Robin for that long told him that he really wasn't supposed to leave Batgirl's or Nightwing's side, he did it anyway.

Teenagers, rebellion, not listening to orders, being overconfident... you know the drill.

Truth be told, he hadn't gone _that_ far; Babs was still two blocks away, stopping a very poor robbery attempt (Tim was pitying these guys, really). Probably already on her way to lecture him, actually. He didn't know how long he was... confused. By the brick. The brick graciously thrown at his face. That one.

_Anyway_ , Robin had caught the swirling of a cape ( _purple_ cape), and obviously decided that he would be of more use trying to talk to the new player in town (and, okay, that could have just been a kid playing, but eh, he had been right. So. No comment.) and determine if they were friend or foe.

(Considering the brick and the bruise starting to blossom on his face, he really should say _foe_ ; at the same time, he may have startled them, and throwing a brick was a normal Gothamite reaction. So maybe _friend_ , then? More information was definitely required.)

Barbara could handle herself and the robbers just fine. She hadn't needed Tim. So really, he had just done the logical thing. (He definitely wasn't preparing his future plea for his older brother and kind-of-sister. No one will ever know.)

He had caught the person he saw, though. Seemed feminine, in all purple and black, with a cobbled-together costume and severely under-equipped. Very good aim. And yeah, okay, he may have deserved this. But still.

A _brick_.

Crazy Gothamites.

(Yeah, Tim knew he was one of them. And?)

She – they? – were gone now. Robin blinked and looked around; his head was still spinning a little, and the roof he had landed on after his little chase was deserted.

Or, not that much, as the _tap tap_ of little steps in boots made themselves heard.

It wasn't Batgirl, nor Nightwing.

Without thinking, Robin grabbed the brick that had previously been thrown at him, and readied himself to send it back at its original thrower.

“Don't!” came the immediate shout, and the person in purple suddenly appeared from behind the gates of the roof.

It was only his long training as Robin, and Dick's voice telling him to not hold grudges against people, that stopped Tim in his tracks. Patience and self-control, as Bruce always said. (Like Bruce had any patience or self-control, duh. Last month, he'd scolded Tim for not cleaning his room, after asking him to do so like, only once; and all the times he _said_ he's told him that Tim couldn't remember didn't count. So, yeah. No patience. No self-control. And he grounded Tim just for that, too. Like, bruh, what a _dad_ move, Bruce.)

“Yeah, it hurts. I don't recommend,” he said instead as he dropped the brick (not on his feet, thank God. He didn't need to make a fool of himself on top of everything.)

The figure in purple winced, before shrugging a little, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry? It was a reflex.”

And yeah, sure, Tim could have snorted or something, but considering he'd just had the exact same reflex, he contained himself. “So, um. Nice roof?” It was terrible. Starting over, now. “I mean, what are you doing here?”

They didn't stop themself from snorting, which, _rude_. “Yeah, got a nice view and everything,” they said instead of answering his real question. Which, _rude_ , _again_.

The silence took over, as Robin watched the person in purple and the person in purple watched him, and neither of them were actually trying to talk, and it was _terrible_. They were graciously saved from more awkward tension by Batgirl as she finally arrived at the crime scene.

“ _Robin_.”

Rectification: the person in purple was saved. He definitely wasn't. She sounded _very_ angry.

“It's their fault!” he blurted out without thinking, pointing the purple figure in front of him.

Who shouted in response a very indignant, “Hey!”

Batgirl looked at them – both of them – and _sighed_. Not the good type of sigh, either; more of a _what-am-I-gonna-do-with-you-you-sheer-dumbass_ kind of shigh. An _annoyed_ sigh. And she was now deadpan, rubbing her temple and, yep, Tim was in for the lecture of his life. Engaging with an unknown person and variable was a no-no, how could he have forgotten that? (He didn't.)

“I didn't do anything!” continued the other. “The brick hit him on it's own. I merely accompanied the movement. He deserved it anyway.”

He gaped. “ _Are you victim-blaming me?_ ”

“You were the aggressor!”

“ _I_ didn't throw a brick at you!”

“ _Kids,_ ” growled Batgirl, and they both shut up. Then she turned towards the purple person, the edges of her eyes pinched in a way that Tim knew meant she was _thinking_. “I know your voice.” The purple people started to move back, just a little at that. “Weren't you one of the kids the Reach kidnapped?”

They stopped, kind like a kid caught with their hand in the cookies jar. (Tim knew this one well, because he had a bet with Dick – _and Jason, once upon a time_ – about how many cookies they could sneack without Alfred finding out. The answer was not a lot, by the way.)

“... Noooooo...,” they said slowly, eyeing the edge of the roof with the clear intent to run away (Tim could empathize with that; he would do the same.)

“You were,” stated Batgirl, in the kind of voice that said _do not argue with me, young person_. “What are you doing here?”

Tim had to give them that – they withstood Batgirl's glare for a whole minute before giving up. “I'm looking for my mom. It's what I was doing before the Reach took me. I... can't really live with my father, and my mom disappeared and never came back, and I need to find her, okay?”

They sounded panicked, and Tim was suddenly glad he didn't throw that brick. Kids in Gotham never had it easy, but it was always kind of heartbreaking to witness it. “We can help you,” he said immediately, and they looked at him like he was stupid.

“You have more important stuff to do.” Their tone was convinced, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Tim was ready to argue more, but once again, Batgirl's voice cut them.

“Stephanie. That's your name, right? We can help you.”

_Stephanie_ tensed, visibly not really wanting to share more; Tim could have sworn she was almost _sad_ not to. Her voice was steady and sure when she answered, though.

“No. You have more pressing matters. I can take care of myself just fine.”

She was already on the edge, and with a leap she jumped off the roof. They closed the distance in a couple of seconds; but too late to catch her, and Batgirl raised her arm to stop Robin from chasing her (again).

“Give her some time.” she said simply. “Now, we're going back to the Batmobile, and your brother and I are grounding you for taking off on your own without authorization.”

Tim groaned because, _again_? (which meant that he should maybe stop doing that. Ugh.) Being grounded was not Fun™ and Dick was going to laugh at him. _Again_.

He followed Batgirl without complaint, and didn't even try to ask if he could drive this time; they were both thinking about _Stephanie_ , he was sure.

“Well. That was something,” he said finally, obviously trying to fill the silence.

Batgirl hummed, not really answering him.

“... Ten bucks that Bruce ends up adopting her.”

And Batgirl cracked a knowing smile, _finally_.

(Dick laughed when they came back and narrated the encounter to him, even if it tourned out that the girl – Stephanie – had given Tim a concussion. He pouted, but he really wouldn't mind seeing his older brother smile a little more freely, after all this time and pressure on his shoulders.

Things will get better. They had to.

And in the meantime, they'd help Stephanie, no matter what kind of help she needed.)

.

.

.

Throw a brick at a Bat _one time_ , and now they were all out there stalking you.

_Creeps_.

They weren't even _discreet_ about it either.

Stephanie was trying to _help_ , and now she couldn't even do that anymore because she had to hide from the Bats.

… Technically, she could also, like, _work_ with them. She knew it, thought about it even – but that implied too many things she didn't like. They already knew her identity; she didn't want them to learn _more_.

And, well, it wasn't fair that they knew her identity but she didn't know theirs.

Nightwing and Batgirl kept following her during patrol for about two weeks; never Robin, though (like they were afraid she would throw another brick at him, _ah_ ). One of them was always on the corner, ready to help her if she needed it (which only happened like, three times), but keeping their distance the rest of the time. It was like they were judging her, determining if she was good enough, or something like that.

(Not like she needed their approbation anyway. She wasn't going to stop helping people and looking for her mother just because two not-even-adults-yet told her so. She was her own person and she made her own decision, and the rest of the world could go to hell for what she cared.

_Especially_ these stupids Bats.)

The third time one of the Bat helped her – it was Nightwing, and seeing him fight was definitely _something_ – he didn't leave right away. Instead, they both made their way to the nearest rooftop, and Steph nearly fell from exhaustion as soon as her feet touched the ground. Nightwing immediately came to her, the lenses of his mask failing to hide the worried stare he kept on her. He crouched beside Steph, and she could feel him looking at her from toes to head and everything, and she waved vaguely.

“I'm _fine_.” she said, and she tried not to think about how her voice was so strained, so _tired_.

Nightwing put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently; the corner of his mouth stirred a little, and she could tell he was _amused_.

Jerk. Don't laugh about someone else's misery, would you?

She grimaced, and he squeezed her shoulder again; then he spoke. “You look like you haven't slept in three days.”

“Wow, you sure know how to compliment someone.”

“You're welcome,” he said. He sat next to her, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the roof. His hand left her shoulder, but he kept it right behind her, and somehow it made her feet almost _safe_. “So,” he continued. “you're living alone right now?”

She tensed immediately, and he seemed to notice it right away – he raised his hands in the air, in a familiar gesture for _I'm innocent_. “Like, you said last time you were looking for your mom, and that it was better for you not to be with your dad. So. You must be living alone now, right?”

She blinked, breathed, and nodded – still a little wary, but less tense already. Nightwing hummed a little, and looked at her again instead of the edge of the roof; she didn't really get what he was thinking now, but he seemed – at peace, kind of.

“You're fourteen. You shouldn't be alone like that,” he said, and this time she could see the frown on his face.

“Well, I don't really have another choice,” she replied, her nose scrunching up.

“What if I gave you one?”

She snorted, but when she turned toward Nightwing, the expression on his face was dead serious. She opened her mouth, but nothing came up; she just kept staring at him like an idiot, with nothing to answer.

“I'm gonna take that at a _please continue, dear Nightwing_. So, you could come to our place. I mean, to the Batcave. We... kind of live near it? Robin and I, I mean, because Batgirl lives somewhere else. And, uh, there's other people, too – Agent A and his daughter. Well, she doesn't live with us either, but she comes by like every few days or something. And we have a lot of room, so. Yeah.”

She blinked, tried to wrap her mind around – everything.

But things didn't make any sense right now, because – Batcave? Living with them? Robin and Nightwing and whoever Agent A was?

Wasn't this exactly the type of things kids weren't supposed to do? Like, going with strangers, or inviting strangers to your own place?

… What was Batman going to say about all of that, too?

But- She didn't ask these questions. Because the only thing that could came on her mind right now-

“Why?”

-was that he had no reason to propose to her something like that to her. So... (Tempting. Like she could belong, somewhere, with someone, many someones, and it felt so strange and so good at the same time. Like a fire in her heart and a desire, a longing creeping around her entire being. She wanted- _Something_. _That_. Maybe.)

So unsafe.

Nightwing smiled, softly, like when you get the last cookie in the jar and you've resolved to enjoy every bite of it.

“Because you're a kid, and you're alone. You're smart, and you want to help, and you seem way too stubborn for any of us to convince you to stop. I want to help you too, Steph. Or at least give you proper training and a better quality costume, with real protections. And to give you a team you can lean on when you need to.”

Accepting was a stupid idea. As much as the Bats were heroes and everything, she still didn't know them, not really, and- and they could do anything to her if she found herself alone with them, and no one would ever know.

But between escaping her father and his friends, trying to keep him in jail, looking for her mother, managing groceries and dinner and housework and homework-

She was exhausted, and she was weak and hungry and so, so _tired_.

She wanted to sleep, and she wanted someone to protect her and tell her everything would be okay.

(She was exhausted, and she wasn't thinking straight, and Nightwing seemed so nice, so genuine.)

“... I have one condition.”

“If it's your own bathroom, that won't be a problem.” She could tell from his tone that he was mostly joking, yet being absolutely serious. She decided to not pressure the subject more, not now at least.

“You already know who I am. I want it to be both ways.”

He tilted his head, and for a while no one said anything; he was obviously thinking about it, weighing the pros and the cons.

Then he smiled again, like he won the lottery. “Well, it's only fair.”

She gaped, half-expecting a rejection – the Bats were known for their very secret identity, after all.

“Just like that?” she asked again, not really believing it.

Nightwing didn't say anything for a minute, and it felt like she was burning under his stare. It was almost gentle, like a child you cradle in your lap, with delicacy and tenderness and love, and somehow it was more terrifying that all the cold stares and hate she had had turned against her.

“You're worth it, Stephanie.”

She felt like bursting into tears, and Nightwing put his arm around her shoulders in a half-hug.

She was fine. Perfectly fine. It was just the exhaustion, and it had been a long time since the last time someone was nice to her, that was all. That didn't mean anything, and she wasn't about to get attached to a bunch of freaks who stalked her for two weeks after she threw a brick at one of them.

But-

But she could have people ready to help her, to help her look for her mom-

(Stephanie knew, though, that after all this time, she wouldn't find her... not alive at least. She couldn't think about it.)

-to help her be better and to watch her back in battle-

-peoples she could _trust_.

She wasn't sure how trust worked, but somehow she was ready to try.

Steph nodded quietly, and suddenly Nightwing was back and his feet and his hand was in front of her, waiting, open, as open as his smile and his hopeful look.

She _breathed_ -

“Let's go home,” he said.

-and she took his hand.

(She fell asleep in the Batmobile, and woke up in a room in a real _Manor_ , and she learned about Dick and Tim and Babs and met Alfred and Julia, and they trained and laughed and cried a little sometimes, and outside things were happening, but- But.

Stephanie started to felt _happy_ , like she was _something_ , like she was _belonging_ -

-like she had a _family_.)

.

.

.

Upon coming back from a very dreadful trial in space, Bruce only wanted two things; to hug his kids and sleep in his own bed. The first one was definitely the main priority, especially regarding everything that happened when they were away. When Bruce found Dick, he wouldn't let go of him until he was sure his son was- _better_.

_(He didn't want to think about another kid he saw growing up, dying being a hero, saving his mom, saving the world._

_Wally had been a common figure, at the Manor, with his long and steady friendship with Dick. He remembered how he was as a little boy, how he was as a teenager, how he was as a young adult, and- it hurts. More that he would have thought._

_And Jason... Jason's death had only been last year.)_

So Bruce wanted to see his children, which was perfectly comprehensible.

_(He missed them, so much. He had been so afraid to never see them again, that he'd be stuck away in space forever. Tim and Dick deserved better – they couldn't lose their father so soon after their brother, and not ever if he could help it.)_

That being said, Bruce had absolutely no idea who the kid in the kitchen was. She seemed unfazed by his presence, though, and kept eating her cereal (since when did they have cereals at the Manor?) while reading something on her phone. Her curly blonde hair was loosely tied in a ponytail, and the sweater draped over her petite frame was one of Dick's.

… She was definitely too young to be his girlfriend, though. She looked closer to Tim's age, if he had to guess; maybe a year or so older. In any case, far too young and minor for his very adult son.

“Hn,” he said, and she didn't even blinked or looked at him.

Footsteps were moving towards the kitchen, and Bruce recognized Tim's pattern. In the first months of his stay at the Manor, he had moved as silently possible, as if he was scared to be noticed; now, he was more comfortable with being seen and heard, and walked with more confidence and a dull tap tap _tap_. Dick had always been the silence type thanks to his acrobat training, and more often than not kept to walking on his tiptoes, making any sound hard to catch. Alfred was... something else entirely, and seemed to appear from nowhere when he wanted to. Hearing him coming was a dream Bruce stopped having years ago.

“Dad!” chirped a young voice, not yet hit by puberty, and Bruce smiled at his youngest son. He wasn't surprised either to have him lunge at him and fill his arms with teenager not a second later.

He hugged Tim back, and in the back of his mind noticed the few changes that had occurred while he was away: Tim was a little bit taller, by one or two inches; a light fragrance of flowers clung at his sweater, certainly feminine; he'd cut his hair recently, considering how soft it was under his fingers; he could feel his son's smile against his neck, where he buried his head, and it felt like years ago when he saw him smile for the first time.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, and didn't let go of the precious body against his own. Tim didn't try to let go either – not for the next minute, at least.

(Bruce could still remember how touch-starved Tim was when he had met him; how the gentle affection and care confused him, how hugs and ruffles of his hairs were unknown to him. He'd changed so much – _healed_ so much.)

Tim finally took a step back, and his smile turned a little wary, but still as bright as the sun. “I see you've already meet Steph!”

Ah, yes. The girl. Who apparently was named Steph. It was a start.

“ _Met_ is a big word. Let's just say we've been in the same room,” intervened _Steph_. Her voice had an accent Bruce recognized from the roughest part of Gotham; something in the way she rolled her _r_ and breathed her _h_.

_(Jason'd had the same.)_

She looked at them, now, and even throughout her little smile he could saw _envy_ , _longing_ -

(Bruce knew he was fucked.

He was still trying to pretend, though.)

-and her cereals had disappeared in her stomach, too.

Tim snorted, and Steph's smile became more playful, less tense – it was _shining_ and _teasing_ and Bruce _loved_ it.

“Right. So, Steph lives with us now,” said Tim, and as if that was enough of an explanation, changed the subject entirely. “So, how was space?”

Bruce could have – _should_ have – incvited his kids- his son and his new resident to talk more, say more, explain what all of that was about, why she was living here and where in hell were her parents, why Dick or even _Alfred_ let that happen; could have asked all of that, like a responsible parent and adult should do.

Instead, he took a seat at the kitchen table, and smiled at the two kids in front of him, and talked about space and aliens with them for the next hour or so.

(He looked at how Stephanie laughed and Tim threw a bit of toast at her, and he thought that he could get used to that very quickly.)

.

.

.

A lot of things happened these last months.

(A lot of things happened these last _years_.)

February was coming soon, and once again Bruce was trying to knock at one of his kid's doors to ask them an important question – always the same, and the fear and stress were now long time enemies.

He was gathering his courage now; soon enough, Tim could come by, or even Barbara or worse, Alfred, and Bruce didn't want them to see him like that.

He breathed deep, and then knocked.

“Come in!” was the immediate answer, and Bruce couldn't help but smile. He knew that right now, Stephanie was looking for some sort of distraction from her homework, and usually he would have been the last one to help her with that.

As he expected, she let out a groan when she noticed he was the one standing at the door. He closed it behind him without really listening to her muttering protests.

“If it's about my homework, I'm working on it, I swear!” That her laptop was opened to a YouTube page channel and streaming a nail art tutorial said something else, but for now Bruce wasn't here for that.

“It's not about your homework,” he said, and Stephanie spun in her chair, now facing him with a raised eyebrow and a curious face.

Bruce had been surprised by her, many times. By her presence, her strength, the brightness of her eyes when she talked with passion, how smart she was despite how much she downplayed it and didn't really believe it, how quickly she could learn, and how easily she fit into their lives and into his heart.

(He shouldn't have been surprised by this, really. He'd always had a soft spot for kids, and she was bright and loud and stubborn and already unfazed by their lives and in it up to her neck. She was _perfect_ , just like Dick and Jason and Tim were and still are, always going to be, and he was pretty sure nothing could change his mind about that now.

He took him five seconds to fall in love with his children, after all, and why would things have gone any differently with his daughter?)

“What's it for, then?” She rubbed her thumb against her knee, an obvious nervous tick of hers, and the next words out of her mouth were so rushed they'd make a speedster jealous. “If this is about the broken windows on the second floor and the roses, I told Tim it was a bad idea, he just didn't listen to me!”

Bruce blinked, because as far as he knew, there were no broken windows or problems with roses in his Manor, and Stephanie winced as his reaction.

“Oooor, ignore what I just said and tell me why you're here?”

Bruce decided that this new information could wait a little. He breathed, and looked at the teenager in front of him, and thought of cereal and smiles and longing, and his hands tightened around the papers he held.

He breathed, and he looked at her, and said “You've lived with us for some time now.” He saw the frown on Steph's face, and he quickly smiled and hoped it could convey that nothing bad was about to happen, and for a split second he wondered how he could still be so bad at it after the fourth time. “And you're... you're part of this family, now.”

He was ready to continue – he had a whole speech prepared, like he always did, and like always, his children never let him finish.

“Oooooh is this the talk Dick and Tim told me about? Damn, you're even more awkward than they said.” The silence stretched, and she made a gesture with her hand, all smiles and laugher and _dang_ , _children_. “But please, go on, don't mind me!”

He sighed, already resigned to the loss of his speech. “The talk your brothers told you about,” he repeated, and she beamed.

“Yes! That one!”

“... The Talk?” he tried, hoping it wasn't _that_ one – he still had research to do, he wasn't as well-versed in girls' puberty as boys'. And the powerpoint wasn't ready yet.

“Ugh, no. The _talk_.” His confusion was apparent enough for Steph to continue. “You know. The one.” And now she was blushing and-

_Oh_. Okay.

“... You already know what I want to ask you, don't you?” And maybe he was smiling a little, and pride and fondness were blossoming in his chest, but no one needed to know.

“... Yes. I think so, yeah.”

So Bruce gave her the papers, and watched her read the headline, and watched the wetness of her eyes, and breathed. “I would be happy to be legally your father, Stephanie.”

She smiled before spinning her chair again, grabbing a pen in a quick motion and slamming the papers on her desk. She would have torn them up with how fiercely she signed them, but Bruce couldn't mind when one minute later, his daughter was in his arms and murmuring in his ear, “Me too.”

(They announced the adoption at dinner that evening, and Bruce wasn't surprised to see Dick here, despite his estrangement from his family and friends since Wally's death, and he wasn't surprised to catch an exchange of money from Barbara to Tim, nor by the fact that Alfred had cooked the celebratory meal long before the announcement.

Bruce didn't mind.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it :fingerguns:
> 
> Next chapter next Sunday if everything is okay! 
> 
> Take care, a lot of love for you!! :heart:


	5. 5- Cassandra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you're all okay!! :D
> 
> Here's a new chapter! I loved writing it :D
> 
> Thanks so much to [Brigit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_book_has_been_loved) for being my beta!! :heart:

There was a new vigilante in town.

( _Again_.)

They knew this only because this new player swept in during an intense confrontation and saved Commissioner Gordon's life.

(It had been so _close_ , especially so soon after what happened to Barbara – she was still in the hospital, never to walk again, and a dead father would have been the last straw.)

They knew nothing about them; except maybe that they were friendly, considering how they helped them – but nothing else.

More than that, they kept evading them, being _there_ , helping people (by apparently following the bats' own exemple, which Tim qualified as “very cool”), becoming slowly a myth of Gotham, but never to be seen – not even from the people they saved. They were a moving shadow, a trail of broken bones and whispers of thanks behind them.

It was deeply frustrating.

It was every hands on deck, and this shadow still escaped them.

In the end, it was Barbara who found her.

Bruce only learned it one day later, and didn't even try to hold back the sigh that came to his lips. _I should have known it would happen_ , he thought. He was on his way to Dick's place, where Barbara was staying for the time being.

(Until she found an apartment better suited for her new condition, she said. She couldn't stay with her father hovering, worrying over her, she said. It was too much, she had to prove all over again that she could do whatever she wanted – she didn't say, but Bruce knew, because he saw this little girl grow up and become a woman, and he _understood_.)

He honestly didn't know what he thought he was gonna found, but a teenage girl stuffing her mouth with food wasn't it.

She stopped when he entered and looked at him; head to toes, one time, two times; then, surely because she deemed him not a threat, she went back to eating. Barbara was on the couch behind her, a book in hand, calling a name after another without any reaction at all. Her wheelchair wasn't in line of sight. The teenager was sitting cross legged on the floor, her plate on the coffee table in front of her.

Dick came out of the kitchen, a bowl of fruits in his hands, and smiled at him.

“Hey Dad!” He posed the bowl on the table, and designated the girl with a vague gesture. “So, this is her. Babs is trying to find her name. Also, she eats a lot. Alfred's gonna love it.”

Bruce didn't answer, because _seriously Dick, he wasn't about to bring her to the Manor and adopt her_ , and kept his stare on the girl. She didn't seem bothered by it, way more interested in the food as she was.

“She doesn't talk,” continued Dick, letting himself fall into the couch beside Barbara. “But we think she can understand us? We're not sure.”

Barbara lowered her book, looking right at Bruce; for the first time since her accident, she was smiling.

“At first we thought she maybe spoke another language, but none of the ones we tried worked.” She looked at the teenager a short moment before looking back at Bruce. “Honestly, she didn't even try to speak. I'm... Not sure she can.”

A kid her age who didn't know how to speak was... Concerning, to say the least. Probably from abuse more than anything else, considering she seemed pretty fine around people she doesn't know – Bruce heard stories about children raised in the wild, of course, but these children never really adjusted to society after that. This young girl, though... She seemed, maybe not perfectly at her place here, but fine; not scared, not like she couldn't recognize anything. If it wasn't for Barbara's clothes a bit too loose on her frame, she could pass as a normal teenager.

Bruce stopped watching the girl and looked at Barbara instead.

“How did you find her?”

She shrugged.

“I'm not even sure. I was trying to find the person who saved Dad, and I ended up looking on the street because I couldn't catch anything on camera. She wasn't far from, well, where it happened. She was staying in an abandoned apartment. The hardest part had been to get her to follow me, really.”

Bruce nodded.

“Nothing about her? Where does she come from, her name, a family?”

(Dick _snorted_ at that, a smirk on his lips, obviously mocking him, as per usual.

Bruce _didn't_ raise him like that.

It was all Julia's fault.)

Barbara shocked her head, visibly amused as well; her tone was strangely happy when she answered. “Nope, nothing!” Then, she smirked too, because her and Dick hadn't been best friends for years for nothing. “She's all yours, Bruce.”

He looked at them with his most blank face, and they both snickered. That seemed to make the girl react; she turned toward them, apparently curious, and the diabolic duo smiled warmingly at her. She stared at them for a whole second before smiling, too.

It was a good smile. A cute one. Like a child who saw snow for the first time and the moon and the stars and discovering the world hiding behind the window.

Bruce sighed.

She was obviously trained, and alone, and Dick's couldn't keep her in his apartment forever, right?

(It was just because it was _convenient_. Nothing else.)

“... I suppose it would be better if she stayed at the Manor for the time being,” he said.

Dick smiled knowingly, and Bruce decided to ignore his son.

(He _wasn't_ about to adopt a new kid coming from nowhere.)

.

.

.

Bruce was about to adopt Cassandra. Or to ask her, at least. She was living with them for a few months now, and she fitted very well in the family. Barbara had been the one to give her the name _Cassandra_ – they couldn't find her real name, or even if she had one.

Both Barbara and Bruce had worked on her case, helping her develop her speech (she had the notion and some basics, but it seemed no one ever made her talk or encouraged her to do so), trying to build her a new, real identity.

That was why Bruce was here now, hesitating in front of the gym where Cass liked to spend time. It was the shiny, official one inside the Manor, not the Cave; Bruce had started buying new things when Dick came by, and he never stopped since. Cassandra had very much appreciated the trapeze, Dick even showing her some moves; but she also had taken a special interest in dance, especially ballet.

It seemed to ease her mind a lot, and Bruce liked to see her practice; she was already graceful, and she was _good_.

It helped her adjust to a new, normal life, too. She had a hard time, at first, with the novelty of everything, of everyone, plus them helping her with her speech and sign language; it had been hard, and they helped her as much as they could. It worked, in the end; she was now a part of the family, at least adjusted to them if not the rest of the world. She was more relaxed, too, and if she still eats a lot it wasn't as much as first, when it seemed she was taking reserve in case they stopped feeding her.

( _Jason had been like that at first, too._ )

They couldn't find a lot about her, though. Mainly that she came from the League of Shadows – her fighting skills were proof of that – but nothing much. She seemed to be around seventeen, and they already made her choose a date for her birthday. They had some hard time to make her understand the principle, but she seemed to like the idea, at least.

Next year, she would turn eighteen, and they wanted her to be well adjusted by the time.

( _She was the same age as Jason, a little bit older, and it stung, somehow, to see her grown and thinking about his son who would never grow up again._ )

They were also teaching her others topics, like mathematics or history; she was smart, and able to understand a lot rather quickly. It was a delight to see her progress, really.

Barbara had planned a whole cover story for Cassandra; Bruce was supposed to have found her in Hong Kong, and got attached fast. He discovered she was an orphan, and decided to adopt her immediately and bring her home. They were supposed to go to Hong Kong (Bruce with a very much not discreet departure, of course, and Cassandra by Zeta) soon to validate the story and officialize the adoption.

That was it, if Cassandra agreed to it.

Because Wayne would be her only name – it was a change, because all of his precedent children choose to hyphenize, keeping their birth name and taking his. And, somehow, Bruce loved this – having his children taking his name, saying it proudly, choosing it for themselves. They chose each other and it reflected that. But it was different, this time, and Bruce felt it in his bones and heart, and he wasn't sure of what approach he should take.

He took a deep breath, and knocked.

No sound answered him, but he expected as much.

“I'm coming in, Cassie,” he said before opening the door.

Like he hoped, Cassandra was here, turned toward him, face curious. She wasn't moving, having surely stopped dancing when she heard him. She was smiling, though, so she wasn't worried. Which was good, of course.

“Hey sweetheart. Mind if we sit a moment?” He signed the world as soon as they left his mouth, and she nodded, taking place first in the bench they installed here a long time ago. He came beside her and for some time, none of them broke the silence. Bruce was admiring her, silently, noting how her cheeks were more round than when Barbara found her, how she was less tense, more at ease in her own body. He appreciated the change – he loved seeing her in a better place.

“Barbara and I finalized the last papers for your identity,” he started, and she was still looking at him, still a little bit curious. They had made sure to include her in most of their decisions, to ask for her thought and what she wanted; she was mostly aware of what was happening, of what was about to happen. “I... I have one last paper for you to sign, if... If you accept it. It's...”

He stopped an instant, and she posed har hand on his arm, and smiled again, even if it was more hesitant now; Bruce knew she had a hard time understanding what other people wanted from her. He smiled, and didn't resist the impulse to kiss her forehead; they both relaxed at the action.

“It's better for you if you live here – for as long as you want, of course. And, you know that we'll always be there for you, right? You can always come to us if you need to. That's always gonna be true.” Her attention was sharp, and she nodded; her hands moved, and she started to sign, too.

“ _-I appreciate it. Thanks. It's good.-_ ”

He smiled. “The Manor is your home, Cassie. And, you're a part of this family. Steph, Tim, Dick, they all love you. I,” he cupped her cheek in his hand, and looked at her, and thought about the first time he saw her smile, how he fell in love once again and tried to lie to himself. “And I love you, Cassie. The last paper I have here, there's adoption papers. To make you legally my daughter, legally our family.”

Her eyes widened a little, and she lost her breath a second. Her hands didn't stop moving, more and more rapidly.

“ _-_ _You'll be my dad? Like in the movies?-_ ”

It hurt that her references were the movies they watched together as a family, that she never knew anything else. But – it wasn't too late.

“Yes.”

She smiled, bright and sunny and warm, and he wanted to cry.

“ _-I would love it-_ ,” she hesitated, and spoke this time, her voice hesitant but strong. “Dad.”

He opened his arms, and she immediately came embracing him. He couldn't let her go, and he didn't want to either; and if one or two tears escaped his eyes, no one would know except his daughter's hair.

(Two weeks later, he officially came back from Hong Kong with his daughter by his side, their pictures in all magazines for a month after that. Bruce framed it and posed it on his nightstand, right beside the other pictures of his children.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked it!!
> 
> Thanks so much for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks, it honestly make my day. I'm gonna try answering comments soon :heart:
> 
> Take care, all the love for you!! :heart:


	6. 6- Harper & Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I hope you're all okay!! :D
> 
> So, I feel like no one really guessed who was going to come in this chapter, eheh. Harper and Cullen canonically exist in the yj universe, so they deserve their place in the batfam :fingerguns:
> 
> Thanks to Brigit [Brigit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_book_has_been_loved) for being my beta!! :heart:

Bruce hadn't meant to check back in on the kids. It's just – they had been so _young_ , and they'd seemed so _alone_. He was just – concerned. Because he was himself a father, and he couldn't leave two kids like that. That was just – unethical.

So, he goes back to check on them. And he may or may not have found out their names. Just... just in case.

They'd been caught in a fight and Batman had saved them – that was the case for a lot of people in Gotham. Bruce liked to check on them in the aftermath, when he had the time, and that night had been slow. So he'd followed them home, and noticed that they were alone, without an adult, a parent-

Harper and Cullen Row, the research said. Harper was emancipated and taking care of her younger brother; and Bruce... couldn't help but wanting to assist.

It hadn't helped that he'd met Harper by accident after that, in a coffee shop where he was ~~hiding~~ spending time between two meetings. There had been a robbery, and Harper, who apparently worked here, had found it perfectly logical to punch the criminal in the face.

… Bruce may or may not have a soft spot for children with no self-preservation instincts and too much bravery to compensate. He already had _(five)_ four kids to prove it.

He had talked with her, and she had been- he wasn't sure how to describe it, but she had this fire in her eyes, something so passionate and fierce.

Bruce only wanted to be here for her and her brother.

So he'd started to look for solutions, to help them – scholarships, work at Wayne Enterprises, things like that.

He'd obviously been more than surprised when he found them playing Mario Kart in the game room with Tim and Steph, with Cass perched on the couch watching them like a hawk.

Somehow, he and his children were attracted to the same kinds of people, it seemed.

His children were regulars at the coffee shop Harper worked at – that was how he'd found it in the first place. The kids bonded over some series they were all watching, and Cullen had been introduced to them, and now they were all spending time together. Bruce didn't mind, really – at least now he could learn more about the two Rows in the process. So it was a good thing, really.

But the more he learned, the more he wanted to... to do _more_. To make sure they had enough to eat. That Harper didn't overwork herself. That Cullen studied for his test. That they were sleeping well. That they were – _happy_.

… Who he was kidding, he wanted to adopt them and give them the world, like with every one of his other children.

He didn't try to let these feelings dictate his actions, though. He was doing his best to be just a nice adult figure in their life, and to not pressure them – he knew, about their father, and a man as bulky as him could trigger them easily.

Things changed after a while, though.

A tempest was hitting Gotham, and Alfred put his foot down when Harper tried to go back to her apartment with Cullen. Bruce agreed, of course – it was too dangerous, after all. He himself had forbidden his children from going out that evening, and was watching them closely to make sure they didn't try to sneak by him. Alfred had prepared guest rooms for them; Bruce pretended not to notice that they were in the same wing as the rooms the family used.

He simply watched as Harper and Dick were throwing popcorn at each other instead of looking at the screen, Cullen half-sleeping on Cass who was quietly carding her fingers in his hair, Tim propped against Steph, the two engaged in a visibly epic thumb war.

(He tried not to think about how they fit perfectly in his family. He couldn't let himself think about that.)

The end credits rolled about ten minutes later. Bruce moved then; Cullen was fully asleep, and by reflex he stepped by to carry him to bed. He saw Harper flinch, though; he turned toward her.

“I think I could carry him to bed. Does that sound okay to you?” _Stay calm, don't raise your voice, don't make yourself a threat_ – he had read all the advice in the parenting books he had bought when Jason came by.

(He didn't think he would use them again – but there he was.)

She hesitated, her focus shifting from her brother to Cullen. Bruce didn't move, letting her make the decision; his children had mostly already left the room, with only Dick staying by to pick up the popcorn thrown earlier.

“... Alright. I'm coming with you,” Harper finally said, and Bruce smiled at her. His heart ached with the competing urge to protect her versus the urge to give her the space she needed – but he had to respect her consent and wishes before anything else.

He picked up Cullen carefully, making sure he was still asleep in the process; he was way in the land of dreams, and Bruce couldn't help but smile fondly at the boy's relaxed face.

“Let's go.” Harper was already on her feet, and they both made their way to the hallway of bedrooms. The silence reigned between them, only interrupted by Cullens soft snores from time to time.

Harper opened the door to one of the guest room, holding it for Bruce; he crossed the room and deposed Cullen on the bed, tucking him in. Harper didn't shift her focus from him, arms crossed on her chest.

Bruce didn't delay his departure longer; he gently put his hand on her shoulder when he passed by her.

“Good night, Harper. Remember, if you need anything, my room isn't far away, nor are the others. We don't sleep much.” He smiled at her, and she simply nodded her head.

Bruce honestly didn't think she'd take him on the offer; she was far too independent, reserved, and untrusting of him.

He wouldn't have gone himself, if he hadn't heard her scream in the middle of the night.

And the thing was, Bruce had been a traumatized kid. He had _raised_ traumatized children. But hearing one of them screaming in the middle of the night was always – terrifying, heartbreaking, reasonnating in all his own nightmares. It became second nature to already be out of bed by now, halfway to the room where the yell came from.

He noted Cass' head popping out of Tim's room, signing rapidly, _Do you need help?_

He simply shook his head, adding, _Not now_.

He knocked at Harper's door before entering – as he'd suspected, she was still deep in sleep and nightmares. He carefully came by her side, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Harper? Harper, sweetheart, you're having a nightmare. Wake up. Harper, it's me, Bruce. Please wake up.”

She was crying now, still asleep – but he could see she was starting to come back to herself, and he continued to talk to her with a soft voice.

“That's it, sweetheart. Wake up, it's only a nightmare.”

Harper gasped, and she shot wide awake, her breathing hard and short. She immediately sat up in bed, and Bruce put a hand behind her back, careful in all his movements.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart. Like that, perfect. You're doing good. Just like that.”

Soon her breathing came back at a normal pace. Her tears didn't stop, though, but Bruce couldn't do anything against that. She was shaking, and she leaned on him in search of comfort. He didn't hesitate to half-hug her, his arm around her shoulder.

“Harper...?” Cullen was looking at them, eyes wide; he didn't seem taken aback by his sister's state, but more by Bruce's presence.

“She had a nightmare,” Bruce said quietly, and Cullen nodded, coming more closely to the bed. “She's gonna be fine.”

Harper sniffed, and they both turned their attention to her.

“You're feeling better?” he asked, and Cullen took his sister's hand in his.

She breathed, one, two times. “... Yeah. Thanks.”

She stayed against Bruce, to his surprise; he hid it as much as he could, though. His children were now all crowded at the door, looking right at them.

Dick cleared his throat. “We know from experience that it's easier to sleep with other people here. And I know you might not be entirely comfortable with that so... What do you guys think about doing a blanket fort?”

Bruce smiled at the memory; he found his children soundly asleep in each other's beds all the time.

Cullen blinked at Dick, half-turned toward him. “A blanket fort? What is that?”

Stephanie very obviously gasped, like she was personally offended by Cullen's lack of knowledge about pillow fort. “Okay now we don't have a choice. Come here right now you heathen, you're gonna learn _everything_ about blanket forts.”

“Come on, let's go!” Tim bounced, already disappearing down the corridor.

Cullen hesitated but Harper smiled at him and signaled with her hand that he could go. Steph took the boy's hand in hers, and they were both out of the room in no time. “I'm calling dibs on Cass!” yelled Stephanie, already halfway through the stairs.

“Cass? But she's always freezing?” Tim's voice resonated, quickly followed by a loud _thump_. Cassandra was nowhere to be seen anymore so Bruce could easily understand what was going on. He couldn't help but snort a little at his children's antics.

Dick was smiling, too, when he approached them. “Everything alright?” He was focused on Harper, watching her face and noting her expression.

“Yeah. Really. I... I feel better. Thanks.”

“It's alright.” He squeezed her shoulder, and they smiled at each other. “I'm gonna make sure the others aren't on their way to destroy anything. Come join us whenever you want.”

He made his way out of the room, and soon there were only the two of them left. They didn't talk for a while, letting the silence sit comfortably between them.

“Why did you come?” Harper said suddenly.

Bruce didn't answer right away. “You needed help. I wasn't gonna leave you alone.” He stopped for a second. “I know how it is to deal with nightmares. It's not easy to do that alone.”

Harper hummed a bit before nodding her head. “You're really not... mad?”

Bruce felt a familiar anger curling up in his stomach, imagining without problem what could pressed a question like that. “No, I'm not,” he said softly.

Harper totally relaxed, then; her tears had now stopped. She stayed against him still, and he didn't let her go either.

“I should probably go join the others,” she said after a while. “I think I'd like to sleep in a blanket fort.”

She smiled – a true, cute smile, not totally happy but quietly safe – and Bruce was _weak_. _So, so weak_.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

He knew he couldn't help his feelings, like he couldn't do anything about his children's; it didn't mean he wouldn't do his best to protect them and give them the life they deserved.

He was going to protect Harper and Cullen as much as he could, and nothing and no one could stop him.

(When at the next meeting, Miss Martian told Dick that she was worried about the kids she helped who had disappeared in foster care, and Nightwing answered jokingly with, _Don't worry, they're Batman's now_ , Bruce didn't resist his urge to sigh.

Even if his son was kind of right.)

.

.

.

“So, we were on our way to the gym, and that's when we found the, uh, prick? Cornering the new kid. So I was like _Hey,_ _that's not nice!_ but he didn't really care, so I punched him. Not even _hard_. Oh, and no one saw us, so no problem. But it was nice, I guess, to, you know, _help_. Not like I like to punch people, you know, but it's just, the face of the bully? Priceless. So. Kind of nice.”

Cullen was rambling, and Bruce couldn't help himself but find that _cute_.

“You still shouldn't punch people, you know. You're lucky that no one saw you,” he said, because he was a responsible adult. Most of the time.

Cullen sent him a dry look – _and it was so nice, seeing him so comfortable around him, even when trapped in the same car as him for so long_. “You're one to talk,” he retorted.

Well, Bruce sure deserved that. Somehow. Since the kids knew that he was Batman, it was a common occurrence to hear them talk to him like that. Bruce didn't mind. Once again, it was kind of cute.

“Still,” he said. Because, you know. Adult. Mature. Responsible. _Being a good exemple_ , like Alfred said.

Cullen snorted, and launched himself in another story; they had the time anyway. Harper was at work so Bruce had volonteered to pick up Cullen from school. They were on their way to the Manor, but traffic was terrible; they hadn't moved in the past ten minutes at least. It was happening more and more; Bruce was flattered than the both of them seemed to trust him that much. The guest room they stayed at the first time was now commonly called theirs, and they always had a place reserved at family dinner on Sunday. They were even at the Manor more often than their apartment these days. And his children loved them; Harper was bonding with no problem with Cassandra and Stephanie, and Tim loved playing the big brother – something about him not being the youngest one for once. And Dick – Dick had no problem accepting them as younger siblings.

It also didn't help his want to adopt them, but oh well. He had dealt with that want with Dick for years before finally adopting him, so that should be okay, right?

He still had the papers. Just in case. Anything could happen, after all, and Batman prided himself on always being prepared.

They finally arrived at the Manor a half hour late; they were both tired by the long wait. That was maybe why Bruce _forgot_ – even he could be dumb like that sometimes.

“Cullen, can you drop off my briefcase in my office? I'll grab some cookies and tea from the kitchen and meet you there.”

The boy smiled, taking the bag from him. “Yeah, sure!”

Cullen had quickly taken on the habit of doing his homework in Bruce's office while he worked – Jason had done the same once upon a time. Dick had always prefered the kitchen and the quiet presence of Alfred; Tim was more of a doing-his-homework-at-the-last-minute type of guy; Steph was more comfortable in her room; and Cass simply didn't have _any_ homework to do. Harper always joined the two of them – Bruce and Cullen – and they would pass time together. Bruce was weak, but he liked it. He enjoyed the quiet, and being able to help a kid with his homework, and sneaking cookies past Alfred – who absolutely knew about this, of course.

When Bruce entered his office, Cullen was leaning over the desk, face confused and tense. Bruce deposited the tray of snacks on the table beside the couch and went to his- the boy. “Cullen? Is everything alright?”

Cullen looked right at him, eyes wide open. “You have adoption papers.”

Bruce stilled. His breath halted for a second.

“For me and Harper.”

Bruce blinked. “I can explain.”

He had no idea how to explain that.

Why did it always end in disaster when he asked his children if he could adopt them?

Life was unfair.

He didn't even have the time to _ask_ , this time.

“You... weren't supposed to see that.”

“Why not?” Now Cullen looked almost defiant.

“It was just in case.” Even for him, it sounded like a weak excuse.

“Just in case of what?”

Bruce didn't really know how to answer that. He sighed, and waved toward the couch. “Why don't we... sit. And talk.”

Cullen didn't say anything for a moment. Then he nodded quietly, going to the couch and letting himself settle into it.

“So?” he inquired again, and Bruce couldn't help but appreciate it – the way the boy didn't tense, or act aggressive, or even skittish; he was curious, but determined, and Bruce smiled at him.

“I... I didn't have the intent to ask you about that right now. Not you or your sister. I know I'm not... I know I'm just the father of your friends, and that's alright. It's just... I do care about you. Both of you. A lot. I want what is best for you.”

“And you want to adopt us for that?” Cullen was still curious, but also, quite amused now.

“... Yes?”

Cullen _snorted_.

Well, at least he wasn't taking it badly.

The boy put the papers down on the table, his focus lingering on it for a little while. Bruce didn't try to get him to talk.

“You know, you are a good dad, Bruce. And not only for your children. You... acted more like a father to me and Harper than our real father ever did.” And Cullen was watching him now, brown eyes sparkling under the light with _something_ akin to happiness, maybe. “You don't give yourself enough credit. It's not because you're our friends' dad that we're coming here so often, you know. It's just...” He stopped a second, considering his next words. “It's _warm_. Here. It's a family, and it feels- it feels like it can be ours, too.”

Bruce knew he had a tendency to always be surprised by his children, no matter how much he loved them and thought the world of them.

Cullen and Harper weren't an exception, apparently.

“I-” He cut himself off, taking a moment to breathe. He looked at Cullen, and his boy _smiled_.

“Harper and I talked about it, actually. A littlen like – not a lot. Just, we talked about it. Not... about being adopted or whatever, just, about what you are for us. How we feel about all of that.” He made a large gesture with his hand, encompassing the room and the both of them in it. “We were suspicious a lot, at first, but- you proved yourself.” He snorted a little, then. “Also, you're Batman. Wouldn't be the first time you saved us.”

Bruce had a lump in his throat and suddenly, he didn't know how to talk anymore. Cullen was still looking at him behind his eyelashes, a little smile on his face. Bruce carefully brushed a lock of his son's hair in front of his eyes to behind his ear. He could more clearly see the sparkles in his gaze and smile at how relaxed and happy he was.

They were still looking at each other without saying anything when Harper barged through the door.

She immediately stopped, looked at them, narrowing her eyes. “What's going on here?” she asked, and Cullen beamed at her.

“Hey, look what Bruce had on his desk!” He grabbed the papers again and waved them in front of his sister's face. Harper managed to get them out of her brother's grasp and started to read them.

Bruce felt very much like a deer caught in headlights.

His discussion with Cullen reassured him, of course; he was aware that the children were at least comfortable here and felt like a part of the family. Which was actually enough for him, as long as they were happy.

But adoption? That was something else altogether, and Bruce knew he could face a rejection. He knew how private and independent Harper could be; he didn't want her to feel pressured or caught off guard or even to run away. It was a fragile balance, and Bruce was afraid to lose it.

Harper finished reading, and blinked. “Oh.”

Cullen kept smiling. Bruce kept looking at her with an almost frightened expression without even trying to hide it.

_(Alfred told him when he got custody of Dick that it was good for children to be able to understand him without a special dictionary.)_

“Do you mean it?” she asked, her hand holding the papers directed at him.

“Since the day I met you,” replied Bruce with all the honesty he was capable of.

Harper and Cullen looked at each other, and Bruce saw that enough time with his children to know that, _somehow_ , they were communicating.

(He tried not to think about the fact that he and Julia would do that a lot, too.)

Harper exhaled, long and steady, and her face was resolute when she raised it. She crossed the room and sat alongside her brother, posing the papers on the table after that.

Then, clapping her hands together on her knees, she asked:

“Do you have a pen?”

Astounded, Bruce gave her one, and watched as his children signed the adoption papers.

(Bruce couldn't have predicted the turn of this day, but he wasn't particularly sad about it either. It was for the better, frankly, and he felt so _happy_. Harper and Cullen moved into the Manor permanently, and Dick dropped by to help them, a victorious smile on his face that, once again, Bruce elected to ignore.

Like every time he adopted another one of his kids, he spared a thought for Jason, and for how much he would have loved this ever-growing family, how much he would have loved these new siblings.

How much he wished he was here.

And then, he went back to Harper and Cullen and hugged them and sweared to himself all over again that no child of his would die on his watch ever again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked it!!
> 
> Next week is the last chapter! And I hope to surprise at least some of you with it :D
> 
> Take care, a lot of love for you!! :heart:


	7. 7- Surprises 1, 2, 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! I hope you're okay! :D
> 
> We are here for the last chapter! This one is definitely not that canon compliant oisd but I wanted to write the first part so badly you have no idea :D (Also I can pretend it's canon compliant for now)
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta [Brigit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_book_has_been_loved) for everything she did for me!! :heart:

The mission... didn't go as planned.

So, in summary, it was a complete disaster.

Bruce was honestly _glad_ that he was supervising the Team for this mission; they had sent an alert in the middle of a JL meeting and everyone had gone crazy. Mostly with worry. Batman had already been at the Zeta ready to join the Team, the next member started following him; soon enough they were zeta-ing to their covert team to discover... well, the disaster.

Batman immediately joined the fight; they were against some sort of robot army that was protecting the information they were supposed to collect. At first, it seemed like the fight was turning on their favor.

Then, Nightwing spotted the robot who acted like the queen bee – the one they had to destroy to destroy all the others. His son immediately went for it.

Bruce lost track of him way too quickly; soon enough, he had no idea where his son had disappeared to, and an anxious knot curled in his stomach.

Worse still, the robots were taking the advantage again.

The fight cleared, just a little – enough for him to see Dick, on the ground, with the head robot ready to strike, and _Bruce couldn't watch that happen, not again_ -

Someone dropped out of nowhere, landing in a crouch on the back of the robot.

When they were standing up again, there were cables in their hand, and the robot exploded.

“Nightwing!” Bruce's yell came out of his throat without him controlling it. Around the scattered heroes, robots were falling like rain.

His heart was beating way too fast, and he felt the same fear, the same anxiety as he did all this years ago, when he had been too late, too slow, just a second away, a step too far.

He wasn't sure to breathe, either.

They were all trying to find the fallen leader now, and Bruce couldn't look away from the robot's empty shell, spread out on the ground in an indistinct pattern.

All Bruce could see was blood and broken bones.

“Hey!” answered a voice, not so far away, just an outstretched arm away.

_His son._

Nightwing appeared, the arm of their masked helper over his shoulders. They were both hurt, the outsider with a hand on their side and blood dripping between their fingers; but only scrapes and bruises for the rest. Dick nodded in his direction, and Bruce _breathed_ again.

 _You can stand on your own?_ he saw his son mouthing at the masked person; they made a thumb up, and Dick was letting go of them, and soon enough-

Soon enough his son was against him, in his arms, and the world was right again.

The slight commotion lasted only a few minutes, and soon they were all looking at the stranger, still standing, _waiting_ for them.

Then, they took off their masks.

And Bruce couldn't breathe again, because it was blood broken bones lips who would never smile again smirks who would never spread again eyes who would never sparkles again and voice laugh everything disappearing in the void and dark and _death_ -

“Hey, Dad,” said Jason. “Missed me?”

Then, his son passed out.

( _“He talked about kids_ , _”_ Dick told him when they gathered around his dead-not-dead kid. _“Kids we had to go look out for. I have an address.”_

Bruce only nodded, and took his son – his breathing, alive, _bleeding_ _out_ son – in his arms.

Bruce wasn't ready for more breathtaking surprises.)

.

.

.

Bruce didn't want to leave Jason's bedside.

Leslie was the one they called, of course. They ran tests, and they don't know how or since when but-

It was _Jason_ , and he was _alive_.

_His son was alive._

And Bruce wanted to stay with him. Really, really wanted to.

But Dick was supposed to stay in the infirmary too, healing from the bruises and cuts and sprained wrist he got.

“It's alright, Dad. I'm staying with him. We're staying with him. You need to look out for these kids he talked about.”

And, well, Bruce knew his son was right.

But still, he felt like a terrible father when he kissed Jason's forehead and took his leave from the Watchtower medbay.

Tim and Stephanie were with Dick, and Harper confirmed she was on her way with Alfred and Cullen. Cassandra had decided to come with him wherever they'll find these kids; he didn't protest.

Somehow, having one of his kids by his side made him relax, at least a little.

They weren't far away from their location, now; he made a sign to his daughter, telling her to stay on her guard.

The location turned out to be an apartment complex. The number they'd been given along with the adress must be the door they should go to.

Bruce didn't know what he was gonna find – didn't know if he was ready.

Because, really, what was his dead-not-dead nineteen-year-old son doing with kids? Did he save them from somewhere, a trafficking ring maybe, and couldn't find their parents? Were they Jason's? No, he was too young. Were they kids he was supposed to protect, maybe mandated by someone?

He had too many theories, and no clue which one was the truth.

Cassandra placed her hand on his arm and squeezed it. “Let's go,” she said quietly, and Bruce calmed the beginning of the panic clawing at his throat.

He would never know if he simply stayed here.

Bruce knocked. No one answered, not even after a minute of waiting; he then made a new sign to his daughter, and pressed the doorknob. The door opened quietly on a somber hallway.

He walked inside.

He felt his daughter sliding in and blending into the darkness without difficulty, ready to act at the first threat.

“Hello? I'm Batman. I'm here to help you.” He kept a soothing voice, the one he used with the kids he met on patrol. “I won't hurt you,” he added, just in case.

He took one step; the light suddenly lit up, illuminating the room around them. Cassandra was still out of sight, but-

But Bruce was taken aback by the child in front of him: four or five, scowling, with bright green eyes and tanned skin.

A kid who looked a little bit like him.

“Hello, Father,” said the boy. “I thought you would be taller.”

Bruce's first thought was that the boy was way too young to speak so formally. The second was – _his kid_.

_He had a son? A biological one?_

He looked at the boy, saw everything; the fear and the joy in his eyes, the little curl of his lips like he was repriming a smile, the quick glance to one side of the room, his stance too straight and rigid, the soft air and big nose and cute ears, _his son_.

“Talia is your mother, isn't she?” he said simply, and the little wince of the boy confirmed his suspicion.

Bruce advanced again, just a little, leaving some space for the boy to not feel threatened before crouching before him. He retired the cowl, and smiled at him. “Could you tell me your name?”

The kid straightened even more. “I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon's Head and the Batman.” He blinked, losing a little of his stiff posture. “Or, Damian Wayne now, I suppose.” He looked at Bruce with some expectation, and he kept smiling at him, trying to not let him see the turmoil inside of him.

Jason was alive. He had a son, a very young one, named Damian. Jason apparently brought Damian here. Jason knew Damian, Damian who was theoretically supposed to be with his mother. Damian who was supposed to be with the League of Shadows, or whatever Ra's called his cult right now.

Ra's and his Lazarus Pit, who could revive the dead.

Bruce swallowed.

“You can be whoever you want, sweetheart.” He saw the flick of confusion in Damian's face at the pet name, and tried to not let anger win in his heart. “I'm happy to meet you, Damian.”

Damian – blushed. And tried to hide it, raising his head and puffing his little chest. “Of course, Father.”

He was absolutely adorable.

“How about you tell me who the other kid here is, and I bring you with me to my home?”

Damian startled, his eyes widening at the shock. “How...” He stopped himself, trying to regain his composure. “How did you know?” he asked finally, his face falling a little, disappointed – in himself, Bruce understood suddenly.

“You kept glancing to the side of the room. Not much, but enough for someone with a training like mine to notice it.”

Damian nodded his head. “I will do better next time, Father. I apologize for my mistake.”

Bruce blinked, taken aback once again. “Why do you apologize? You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I wasn't able to hide the presence of Athanasia from you, Father. Thus, I failed at my mission.”

That was too formal and far too serious for a boy his age. They would have to work on that – it probably came from Ra's.

“It's alright, sweetheart. Could you introduce Athanasia to me?”

Damian nodded again and headed to one corner of the room, still in shadow. Here was some sort of bassinet, holding a baby around one year old. A pacifier was in her mouth – presumably to prevent her from making too much noise that would lead her to be discovered. Her big, blue eyes were looking right at him, curious, so much like his own mother's stare was once upon a time. He could see without a problem the resemblance between her and Damian; they were both his, he realized.

He had a little boy and a little girl. Both with Talia, and _she never told him_.

The two of them were gonna have a long, long talk.

“She is my little sister,” said Damian. “She is eleven months old. I am five.”

Bruce smiled at him. “You are doing very good, Damian.”

His son brightened a little at that, visibly loving the praise, and Bruce noted it for later. “I have someone to introduce to you, too.”

Damian frowned. “I thought you were here alone?”

Bruce tilted his head a little, and right on cue Cassandra appeared, her mask gone and a happy, bright smile on her face. Damian startled once again, staring at Cass – his _sister_ – with some sort of interest.

“Damian, this is Cassandra. She is your oldest sister.”

The boy was visibly confused. “I wasn't aware I had other siblings outside of Athanasia.”

Cass snorted. “We're a lot,” she said helpfully, and Damian looked even more confused at that.

“I've adopted a lot of kids. Seven, to be precise. Cassandra is one of them, and the second oldest. So is Jason.”

Damian looked torn a second, watching them closely. “What does adoption mean?” he asked innocently.

Bruce opened his mouth, before closing it again. He had no idea how to answer that, especially without scaring the boy away.

Cass came to his rescue once again. “Dad chose us. We weren't his, and now we are.”

Damian scrunched his nose and seemed to think about this; meanwhile, Athanasia was stirring her little, so little arms and hands toward him, and Bruce couldn't resist rubbing her belly with his finger, for just a second or two. She giggled through the pacifier, and her littles fingers closed around his own.

Bruce felt his heart drown and burst at the same time.

“Alright,” said Damian quietly, and he was now watching them closely.

Bruce smiled at him, a little wider this time, before opening his free arm to him. Hesitant, his son closed the distance until Bruce was hugging him, holding him close to his chest and heart, and burying his nose into his hair and memorizing him fully.

“Let's go home,” said Bruce, after a long moment.

It didn't take long to gather all of their belongings; it all fit in one bag that Cass carried on her back.

“You're old, Dad,” she had said while passing the first sling to her shoulder. Damian had huffed disapprovingly, but Bruce was used to this – he did have seven brats commonly called children, after all.

Cassandra took Damian in her arms despite the boy's protests, and Bruce took care of Athanasia.

Soon enough, they were on their way to the Watchtower, masks back in place, the rest of their family only a beat away.

(Dick laughed when they showed up in the medbay with the kids, and Bruce didn't even have the time to tell anyone that they were _his_ because his children caught on right away and started teasing him.

Damian tried to defend his honor, but no one took him seriously once Stephanie called him adorable and he _blushed_ like no tomorrow.

Bruce watched the chaos unfolding, and his heart could have exploded with love.)

.

.

.

When Jason opened his eyes, the room was filled with chaos, and no one noticed him.

“Wow, I don't remember things being this loud before,” he said, and immediately everyone was by his side, shouting and asking and demanding.

Bruce stepped in. “Jaylad, are you alright?”

“I'm fine. I've had worse,” said his son, and Bruce winced. Dick, Tim, Alfred, and Barbara – the later two came not long after Bruce himself arrived with the kids – had the same reaction. Jason grimaced. “Ah, sorry. Bad habit. The kids?”

“We are here, _Bhai_.” Damian approached the bed and took Jason's hand in his one. Jason looked down at him and smiled.

“Hey, _chuutko_. Everything okay?”

“Yes. I wasn't aware we had this many siblings.” His look was accusing, and Bruce did his best not to chuckle. At least three of his children sent him a pointed look, though, so he hadn't been that discreet.

“Yeah, me neither,” Jason said with a snort.

Dick bent a little to ruffle his hair, a gesture he'd made so many times in the past. “Yeah, there's no stopping Dad. You know how he is. By the way, congratulations, Little Wing, you now have a big sister!”

Jason gaped dramatically. “No way! Who _dares_?”

Cass waved at him. Jason stared at her. Cass didn't look away.

“You know how we recognize your kids, my dear old big brother?” came Julia's voice from behind him.

She entered, a smirk on her lips; Bruce sighed, and now everyone's attention was on them.

“They're all as fucking dramatic as you are.”

All his children snickered, these traitors.

Julia smiled as Jason. “Nice to see you again, kiddo.” Jason sent her a thumb up. “Kate is on her way. She really wanted to come, but someone,” she sent a glare at Bruce, “forgot to warn us of this... development. Thank God Dad was here.”

“Thank God for Alfie, you mean,” snorted Jason, and everyone laughed – except Alfred, modesty obliged.

Bruce looked at his family, and he could have cried with how much he loved them.

“You missed so many things, you have no idea!” piped in Tim.

_(He remembered being scared and staying alone, making a little room in his heart for Julia and Alfred and Leslie keeping it a secret even for himself.)_

“You mean, Babs in a wheelchair? Yeah, I noticed.”

_(He looked at Dick and remembered the sad and lonely little boy so eager to be loved that he once was, and well-loved and respected saw the man and leader he was now.)_

“Well, that, but also....” Dick trailed off, and he took Barbara's hand with a smile.

_(He looked at Jason and remembered the lively, passionate little boy he once was, and saw the man he grew out to be away from him, yet somehow still just as lively and passionate.)_

“No way!” exclaimed Jason. “You too are _finally_ together? And I missed _this_?”

_(He looked at Tim and remembered the little boy who was shy and so afraid to be loved, and saw the teenager who felt comfortable to express himself, in seriousness or in laughter he was now.)_

“Uh-uh. Sorry, bro,” said Steph with a smile, just a little hint of teasing on her voice, and Jason stuck out his tongue at her.

_(He looked at Stephanie and remembered the teenager longing to belong somewhere, and saw the fierce and confident young woman she was now.)_

“And what else? Aunt Julia and Vicky Vale finally hook up?”

_(He looked at Cassandra and remembered the girl who didn't talk, all curious looks and cautious gestures, and saw the strong and funny, tender and teasing young woman she was now.)_

There was a beat of silence, and Jason groaned. “Oh, _come on_!”

_(He looked at Harper and remembered the closed off and strongly independent teen, and saw the more relaxed, more trusting, ready to fly young woman she was now.)_

“Wait till you hear the rest,” said Tim with a smirk, ready to tease his brother once again, like old times, like new times.

_(He looked at Cullen and remembered the shy and quiet boy who tried to not be seen, and saw the cuddly teenager laughing at his siblings that he was now.)_

“Can't wait, Timbers. But I wanna know the names of our new siblings first, ya know?”

_(He looked at Damian and Athanasia and thought about all the things he'd missed and all the things he would see and live with them, and suddenly he couldn't wait for his life to continue and grow and learn more and more.)_

As his children and sister and father and mother laughed and learned and lived in front of him, Bruce looked and watched and loved.

When he thought about his life, Bruce had to admit that being a father, having this family around him – it was his biggest accomplishment of all.

His happiest one too.

(He could never regret the dream of the little boy he once was.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! :D
> 
> For some reasons I don't like that much the idea of Damian being a really little baby in the show? Anyway I make him a toddler here and added Athanasia bc i thought she could be a fine addition (and also I wanted to give Bruce all the kids). 
> 
> It had been a pleasure to write this fic and to read your comments at every chapter!! Thank you so much for your support, for every kudo and comment, it gives me life :heart:
> 
> EDIT: Since a lot of people asked me: I didn't add Duke and DON'T PLAN to add him bc despite that I love him dearly I want to wait to see if the show add him. I want to stay mostly canon with this fic. (I actually really thought about adding him... It's a choice to not do it, but as soon as we see him in the show, or if the show end and he's still not here, I will add him to this serie!)  
> The same goes for Terry and Matt! I don't know enough about their personality to write them for now anyway. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your interest in this fic!! :heart:
> 
> Take care, a lot of love for you!! :heart:


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